


The Red Storm

by MonokromatikBlue



Series: Where The Bleeding Hearts Grow [2]
Category: Life Is Strange (Video Game)
Genre: Action/Adventure, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - No Rewind Time Powers (Life is Strange), Blood and Gore, Blood and Injury, Blood and Violence, Gen, Gun Violence, Suspense, Thriller
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-14
Updated: 2020-12-24
Packaged: 2021-03-10 20:21:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 7
Words: 24,252
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28063092
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MonokromatikBlue/pseuds/MonokromatikBlue
Summary: Red, like roses, blooming in the light of Spring. Red, like ribbons, soft and velvety to the touch. Red, like wine, tangy and potent with laughter and glee. Red, like the blushing of one's cheeks on a chilly day. Red, like the stars in the sky, burning, burning bright.Red, like blood.
Series: Where The Bleeding Hearts Grow [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1909189
Comments: 5
Kudos: 7





	1. Prologue

It has come to my attention, that this story series is far beyond what many would consider to be a normal interpretation of the _Life is Strange_ universe. I understand that a good portion of the audiences that come into contact with this work are looking for some form or another of romance, of a varying degree of fluff or even some scandalous degrees of smut. It is only natural, considering the canonical events that occur in _Life is Strange_ , and even more so for the specific game I am centering my work on (Season One). I don't hold it against people to express their preferred pairings in writing, however logical or outlandish these pairings may be. Rather, I wish to make it clear now, not to dissuade these people, but to assure those who seek something other than what saturates the fanfiction sites.

I do not write the genres of fanfiction listed above, nor do I write for the sake of pairings between characters, and neither do I plan to.

It is partly because I have minimal experience in writing about such genres that I choose to avoid them, but a more prominent motive behind why I ignore these categories does exist: I am of the opinion that the story, as directed by the creator's intention, should by a general degree focus on its plotline. There are stories that follow their intentions and utilize their plot devices that shine the brightest amongst the thousands of other fanfics, and this is what I wish to achieve for mine. This is why I substitute whatever one may consider "romance," and "fluff," with camaraderie, or hurt/comfort, for I try my best to not diverge from the plotline I have set.

Speaking of the plotline.

I have concluded that this specific part, Part Two, is the most plausibly weak when it comes to the plotline. Since my work is set by the parameters of realistic fiction, it would be right to say that the events that transpire in this part are the most unlikely to happen in a realistic setting (and for good reason, once all is said and done). This is _not_ to say it is impossible for what comes next to happen, it would just require all the events established in Part One - _Arkadia_ to happen the way they did, and for many canonical things to change from how they unfolded. This plotline exists because it _can_ happen, however unlikely it may be, and this is something I wish for those who follow this story to take into consideration when reading this part.

If I hadn't already made it abundantly clear with the content ratings and content warnings by whatever website one may use, my story and all of the parts of this series I'm writing are not for the faint of heart. I say this only because I write in a generally detailed and descriptive manner, and whatever instances of violence that are beheld in Part One are only going to become worse in Part Two. I write this as a warning to those who are easily nauseated by descriptions of gore, that this work may test your limits, so I advise you to read with caution. I will not hold your hand, nor will I belittle you.

You have been warned.

I take this moment now to say to those who have stumbled on this work first, and have not yet read the first part already posted on Fanfiction/ArchiveOfOurOwn/Wattpad: please read Part One - _Arkadia_ before going into this fic. It will save you from most preliminary questions you might have, and otherwise bring about more sense behind what happens. My work is not meant to be read as disjointed parts that make up a whole, but rather a seam of parts that flow toward a conclusion.

Part Three will come about sometime in the summer/fall of 2021, hopefully sooner than later. I wish you all a Merry Christmas, and a Happy New Year. - MB


	2. A Single Spark

"No one is safe

When freedom falls.

The best men rot in filthy jails,

And those who cried, 'Appease, Appease!'

Are hung by those they tried to please." - Hiram Mann

* * *

The hangover antagonized her since the first moment she had stirred from slumber, and manifested into a god-awful headache. What few rays of sunlight that slipped through her window blinds took the trouble of beaming themselves directly onto her eyes, so bright and obnoxious and _damn it all_ , she just wants five more minutes to sleep. Yet, Juliet gave up after a few minutes of tossing and turning, and lazily swung the comforter off so she could sit up.

Rubbing the grit from her eyes, she observed the sight of Dana laid out across the length of her couch, an arm dangling off the cushions and snoring ever so slightly. Just before Ward, lying haphazardly on the floor just beside the small table with empty plastic cups and an empty wine bottle, Stella lay on her stomach, out like a light, her face squished against the carpet floor.

Alyssa and Brooke were nowhere to be seen, having left the room some time ago.

Juliet duly remembered the celebratory, alcohol-induced party they had last night, and then followed that thought by noting the acrid smell of sweat, and wine. She needed a shower.

Sarcastically glad to note she still had both her grey shirt and pair of jeans on, she shuffled out of bed and across the room, moving carefully to not disturb her friends and reaching her closet space. She took her time—choosing a practical black t-shirt and another pair of jeans, along with other garments—then grabbing her small bag of toiletries before sneaking out into the hall.

The click of her door lock was so loud in the stifling silence of the second floor, and as she looked around, Juliet couldn't help but feel a sudden sense of suspicion. It was as quiet as nighttime, despite it being Friday morning, a school day.

_Had everyone collectively decided to skip classes or something?_

Dissuading herself, Juliet instead made her way to the showers, blaming her paranoia on Prescott and his hounds for what they did yesterday. She at least wanted to start her morning off relaxed, and free of whatever bullshit Nathan had in store.

Quietly opening the bathroom door, she managed a few steps inside before halting, as stiff, choked sobs sounded from the opposite end of the room. Hesitating, Watson tip-toed closer to the source of sorrow, to the shower stall farthest from the door. She gasped when she was able to look beyond the corner, to see Alyssa curled up in the stall, arms drawn around her legs and shuddering.

"Alyssa?"

The girl jerked, bloodshot blue eyes glanced at the bronze-brunette with fright, then Anderson looked away, in shame. She no longer wept now, but tears flowed all the same, and Juliet could see them behind the stocky girl's hands as she hid her face.

"Alyssa, what's wrong?"

"I'm sorry," she choked out, muffled, "I'm sorry—"

"Hey, hey, it's alright," setting her items down, Juliet crouched down next to Alyssa in the stall, sitting on the opposite wall next to her, "just...talk to me, what's going on?"

When she dropped her hands, Alyssa became twitchy, nervously lolling her head this way and that, her eyes had yet to look to their concerned green counterparts and it worried Juliet even more so.

"At the doors, y-yesterday."

Juliet nodded for Anderson to continue.

"Dana was right. I got scared, and panicked. Told you both to stay," she rasped out, as if straining herself to speak, "I was wrong. I messed up, and—and Brooke paid for it," another tear swept down her cheek, "s-she told me they got cornered again just before the gate, we could've helped them."

"Brooke?"

"Yeah. She woke up when I did, and I asked her," Alyssa sniffled, tucking her head down, "it's my fault she got hurt."

Juliet hesitated, then, very cautiously, "I mean, you had to have a reason behind why you told us to wait, didn't you? Wasn't it something about your parents?"

Anderson curled even more on herself. There was quiet for a good few seconds.

"Yes," she finally whispered.

"Do you…are you okay with talking about it?" Watson asked, softly, worriedly.

Again, a pause.

"We were on the highway, where the 101 and I-5 branch off near Olympia," a hand wiped at her watery eyes, "Traffic had been congested so badly, an' we were stuck in one place for hours. People were in a panic, they didn't care who got in their way— _sniffle_ —and, my parents were out of the car, trying to talk to some other drivers about getting off the freeway. Something like that. All I remember vividly is one of those drivers getting out of their car, and start getting aggressive with my parents. Road rage."

Juliet observed the other girl's hands clench to fists, white-knuckled and shaking.

"They pulled a knife. My parents didn't notice it. I tried to warn my mom and dad, and got out of the car as quickly as I could. They had turned towards me, and that's all it took," and the tears flowed again, Alyssa's brows were knotted into a bitter frown, "Mom got the worst of it. Dad tried to carry her through traffic to the nearest hospital. He didn't get far."

"What about the guy with the knife?" Juliet prodded.

"Dad beat him to an inch of his life. The people he was with took him away."

Juliet swore, lost for words, then, "I'm so sorry, Alyssa."

"It's not an excuse," she said, then curled back up, "it's not an excuse. I did it again. I did it again—"

Juliet placed a hand, gently, yet firmly upon Alyssa's knee, "Don't. Blaming yourself isn't doing anyone any good."

Another sniffle, then, withered chuckling.

"Yet you blame me, don't you?"

It was Juliet's turn to look away.

From beside her, Alyssa sighed and buried her head, "It's fine. Brooke feels the same way."

"How so?"

"I told her everything. She got mad at me for putting Stella in danger. Told me what I needed to hear," another sniffle, the tears had fallen and left long trails down flushed cheeks, "I'd rather this, than her hate me silently, forever."

Juliet hadn't anything to say to that, so she gently squeezed Anderson's knee, and held her hand there. Truth be told, she did feel that Alyssa was partially to blame for what happened to Brooke, and that even despite their smaller number, they could have held their ground against the hounds.

Yet, she could see Alyssa wasn't of ill intention, and had done so out of a legitimate fear. She'd have to talk to Dana about this later today.

"I'm not here to berate you, so don't think I will. I just want you and Dana to sort this out between yourselves," and Juliet stood up, for she's itching for a nice warm shower right about now, "For what it's worth, I think Dana will understand."

Alyssa also stood, tired of moping around, "I hope so. I really hope so."

Juliet had gathered her stuff again, and Alyssa took the hint, stepping out and making her way to the door. Before she reached for the handle, she turned back.

"Juliet?"

"Yeah?" Watson looked to the stocky girl.

"Thank you. For this," Anderson clumsily spoke, giving a strained smile.

"You're my friend, Alyssa. Friends gotta look out for each other," Juliet gave a bright smile of her own, "All five of us, we got each other's backs, remember that."

With that, Alyssa took her leave from the bathroom. Juliet looked to the door for a second after it closed, sighed, and deduced she needed a stress reliever.

* * *

Juliet returned to her room, clean as a whistle, to find Dana now awake, chilling on her couch with her iPhone in her hand. The auburnette smiled when she noticed her.

"Mornin' Jules."

"Hey Dana," Juliet replied, shuffling to the laundry basket, and dumping her old clothes. There was a certain lack of a third person in the room, and Watson inquired, "Where'd Stella go?"

"She went out like, a few minutes ago. Joked about needing some crack to get her up," Ward chuckled, finishing whatever message she'd been typing on her phone and sitting up, eager for something, "So, I don't know about you, but I'm not interested in being straight up hunted while going to classes. You get what I mean?"

"You're skipping?"

"Damn right I'm skipping, and so are the rest of us. Wells obviously isn't going to help us, so why should we risk our lives for some knowledge we'll most likely forget?"

Juliet pauses, then shrugs, "huh, good point."

"And I know just how to fill the gap for today: the five of us with a movie marathon in my room! I got some DVD's that my dad sent me a week ago, and there's a few I haven't watched yet," the excitement shone in how Dana bounced from her spot on the couch and ricocheted across the room, ending up at the edge of Watson's bed, "Whadd'ya think?"

_This is probably the best time to talk to her alone._

"Hey, Dana?"

"Yeah?" she chirped.

"I need to talk to you about something first."

The excitement vanished at Juliet's serious tone, "What, what's wrong?"

"It's about Alyssa."

Like that, the frown made itself known, and Ward stalked her full height and spoke heavy, "What about her?"

"She's not doing well. I met her in the bathroom, and she was really upset over what she did. I'm talking, like, crying-upset," and Juliet tilted her head to glance over to her best friend, "I think you and her should seek forgiveness."

Dana didn't move, nor did she budge, "What, am I supposed to feel pity over that? She knew what she was doing, Jules, you were there! She did that because she froze up—because she was scared."

"She was scared, D, but not for the reasons we thought," Watson had finished fixing her hair into her trademark bun, and faced the cheerleader, "I asked her about that, and…you know how she said something about her parents?"

Dana's frown receded, "What about them?"

"I found out that Alyssa's mom was…well, stabbed by some guy on road rage, and Alyssa thinks it was because she tried to step in and help that caused it to happen," Juliet's nervous hand rubbed the back of her neck, "it's why she stopped us, she was afraid things would get worse if we met Nathan's hounds head-on."

Dana sighed, and swore to herself under her breath.

"Fuck, man."

"Yeah, it's bad," Juliet agreed, "and you and her setting things right again would definitely help everyone out."

Dana frowned still, "Alright, alright. Doesn't mean I'm not gonna chew her out though."

"I mean, Brooke already did that, that's why Alyssa was in the bathroom," Juliet clarified, "please go easy on her, D, she's already beating herself up over it."

"Why are you being so lenient with her, Jules?" Dana bluntly asked, to which she followed up with, "Like, I get that she's Stella's friend, but what's up with that?"

"She's _our_ friend, not just Stella's," Watson replied, "How do you think Stella would feel if she heard you call her that? We all stick together, Dana, _all of us_ ," and the bronze-brunette emphasized this by a circular motion of the hand, "all I'm asking you, is to let Alyssa apologize, and move on. That's it."

Dana looked to her bestie of four years, and honestly nodded, "Alright. I'll hear her out."

Ward beheld the sight of her friend's bright green eyes, shining, so bright in the light of the sun. Whatever doubts of not bringing peace to their friend group were dashed away then, and Dana cursed herself for letting pettiness get the better of her.

"Besides, I call dibs on first movie," and Watson broke out into a cheeky grin as the auburnette gave her The Look, before bursting into chuckles, "Oh, I know how this works, D. You got the rest of them fooled, but not me."

Juliet immediately dodged the speeding pillow that was tossed in her direction, resulting in a slight _thump_ as it impacted the wall behind her. Guffaws rose at the miss.

"Cheeky ass," Dana swore, despite her own smirk, "I'll see you in my room, ten minutes."

"Sure thing."

* * *

_"You can rest now," and Jed trudged through the park of their childhood, carrying his dying little brother in his arms, towards their salvation. The snow was caked on his worn, yet resilient boots, much like the blood that caked Matt's camouflage winter coat, and the ushanka his little brother wore swayed with his lolling head a bit every time he took a step, "Just hang on to me."_

_The attack on the occupied train station had been a pyrrhic success, and as the blood poured from both his brother's wounds and his own, Jed only wished to fulfill the last dying wish they shared as brothers. The biting cold had made his hands numb and his movements sluggish, yet still he trudged on, past the dormant trees and the shining glow of the park lamps._

_The weight and his waning strength undermined his efforts, and they crashed to the cold ground, and Jed desperately clutched to his sibling and spouted, tiredly, "Look at me, look at me," reaching around the splayed form of his brother, "Daddy'll be here soon."_

_Taking one arm, Jed tugged at the limp form on the ground to rise, and Matt rose to a sitting position, completely exhausted._

_"Come on, man, Daddy'll be here soon," and the older teenager took his younger brother under both arms, and dragged him to the park bench. Hoisting the strengthless sibling onto the wooden seat, Jed huffed a tired breath of air and held his brother close. The gunshot wound in his stomach was turning numb and had yet to stop leaking blood. The heavy green jacket he wore covered it at least. He only hoped he had enough time to see his brother through his own fatal wound before he went as well._

_"I just want you to hold on to me, as long as you can," Jed begged him, and glanced back to their favorite swing set behind them and feeling tears swell in his eyes. His entire being became weighted by the presence of mortality, his heart turned to stone when he couldn't see the rise and fall of Matt's chest anymore._

_"I'm so tired," Jed rasped, his lifeless brother's head nudged against his shoulder. The lamp lights glittered in the dark as he shuddered._

_There came a transition, and Danny along with Erica emerge into frame, returning to the battlefield they and their fellow Wolverines resided in. They beheld a memorial, with a plaque enshrined in chiseled stone and an American flag waving forlornly in the background, next to a cliff marked by the names of the forgotten._

_Upon the plaque, laid out in its iron font, it read:_

**_PARTISAN ROCK_ **

**_In the early days of World War III, guerillas, mostly children,_ **

**_Placed the names of their lost upon this rock._ **

**_They fought here alone and gave up their lives_ **

**_So that this Nation_ **

**_Shall not perish_ **

**_From the Earth_ **

The credits roll, and are drowned out by the sound of shuffling as the quintet of girls move from their spots on Dana's bed and floor, some taking a stretch, some wiping sparse tears from their eyes. Dana herself stood and made to remove the CD from the player, wanting to be extra careful with the assortment of drinks and snacks near the TV, that which served as an impromptu lunch for the squad.

"What a movie, man, goddamn," remarked Stella, beside herself, "like, yeah it was cheesy sometimes, but that ending is just," she taps a fist to her heart, "it hurts."

"I think what bothered me the most, were the exaggerated action scenes," Brooke commented, "like, if they had toned down the over-the-top explosions, and the dudes flying into the air whenever a grenade went off, it would've definitely been a better film, I'm just saying."

"Oh yeah? This is coming from the same person that thinks the remake is better," Stella jested, earning her an exasperated look from the Filipina.

"If you don't shut—Stella, I swear to God—"

"Wait, there's a remake of this?" Alyssa asked, curious.

"Yeah dude, it's even got Chris Hemsworth and that guy who plays Peeta in _The Hunger Games_ , Josh Hutcherson" said Stella, relishing the warning glare being sent her way, "y'know, the same guy that _someone_ believes is the whole reason the remake was better—"

"You know that's not even close to my reasons for it, don't kid yourself."

"Oh, I think we all know what kinda _reasons_ you got for having the entire collection of _The Hunger Games_ and the whole _Journey_ series," Stella barbed, a cocky smirk adorned her face, "I bet you like to fantasize Warren as Peeta, don'tchya Brooke?"

"This is bullshit," Brooke very plainly remarked, picking up the empty bag of chips beside her, "I'm getting some more chips," she said, duly ignoring the pile of them on the desk and heading for the door.

"Oh you know I'm right! You can't escape this one," and Stella cackled like a hyena, hyped from the spoils of verbal victory, "Warren and Brookie, sitting in a tree, _k-i-s-s-i-n-g!_ "

Alyssa and Juliet chuckled along with her, as Brooke kindly gave the ebony brunette a one-finger salute, and swiftly took her leave for the vending machine down the hall.

Watson did not voice it, but the movie they had watched, _Red Dawn_ , had been one of her father's favorites while growing up. Sure, she had a greater preference for mysteries or romcoms, but with this one, it held a special place in her heart, and she couldn't parcellate exactly why. If she had to guess, it probably had to do with her father's role as a journalist during the Vietnam War and the US invasion of Grenada in 1983, and how he'd wished her to know what being an American at the height of the Cold War had felt like. How he'd lamented to her whenever he got back home, near the dead of night, about the things he reported on, the things he knew. She can't remember any of it, but the feeling was there, that feeling in the back of everyone's mind.

Mutually Assured Destruction.

Indeed, the world is still mad, if only for different reasons.

"I'm going to the bathroom, gotta wash this dust off my hands," and Juliet picked herself up and trudged to the bathroom, careful to not contaminate the door handles with the remnants of those spicy Cheetos she'd snagged.

Dana and Alyssa had resolved whatever bad blood between them, and it was another weight off Juliet's shoulders. She'd been unsure on where Brooke stood about the whole mess, but she guessed it didn't matter much to the Filipina after the scorning she gave to Anderson.

The situation with Blackwell hadn't been any better than yesterday, but what had been predicted to happen…well, didn't. Juliet pondered about it as she turned the faucet on and washed her hands.

Wells, who had been exceptionally adamant about letting her know the consequences of defying Blackwell's puppet-administration, had not given her so much as an email about her publishing of the article. Watson speculated what the principal said was a bluff, as by now the story would be too far ingrained into everyone's minds following the nightmare of Thursday the tenth. Either that, or by sheer luck the old man hadn't heard the news of what happened and had determined the incident in the cafeteria as a fluke of sorts, though she highly doubted that.

Nathan had been notably quiet as well since last afternoon. Granted, he didn't need to be. However, Juliet had long considered his strategy to be more of a relentless onslaught of attacks, verbal or otherwise to silence his opponents, especially when the spotlight of attention was focused on him. Whatever move he was planning on, it definitely will be something big, only time will tell.

And, between her, herself, and no one else, Chris Hemsworth was far better of a choice than Josh Hutcherson, but she wasn't about to go blabbing that to Brooke or anyone—

_bababang_

She perked her head up from observing the sink, yet whatever she heard was drowned by the running faucet. Thinking nothing of it, Juliet turned the faucet off and made for the paper towels. She didn't want to be late for the next movie, considering the next one was gonna be picked by Dana. Perhaps she'd pick _Wall-E_ , or maybe she'd dare to try _Superbad_ —

_bababang—babang_

The bronze-brunette jerked her head northwards, towards what would be the main building, and felt dread creep ever slowly in her heart. Rushing out the bathroom, she found that her friends had gathered into the hall, having heard the same thing.

"The hell was that?" Stella asked, nervously.

"It's probably another firework, or something, Prescott's at it again," Brooke quickly dissuaded, shaking her head in disbelief. She really had gone back to the vending machine, but had gotten a drink instead of chips.

"You guys heard that too?" Juliet inquired, the weight that befell her heart had now spread to her lungs.

"It sounded like it came from the main building, but I don't—"

_bang—bababang_

Goose flesh bloomed on their skin as the sound was clearer this time, more thunderous.

"Gunfire," Alyssa muttered, then louder, more nervously, "That's gunfire."

"…are you sure Alyssa?" Stella anxiously quipped, "I-I mean, it could just be—"

_bang—bangbang_

"Everyone, get your shit, we're getting the _fuck_ out of here!" Juliet barked, and booked it to her room, hearing a chorus of footfalls as they all scrambled to their respective rooms.

Watson fished for her lone purse, a black leather hand-me-down from her mother, stuffing it in her satchel and checking to see all the stuff she needed was still inside, and scurried back out into the hall.

_bang—bang_

Stella and Dana were the first ones to group up, adorned with their own bags, Brooke followed shortly after with a backpack. Alyssa thundered down the hallway after some seconds, slinging her own backpack over her shoulders as they moved for the stairs.

"Come on, _let's go_ —!"

_bababang_

Blitzing down the flights of steps, they stopped before the dormitory entrance. Juliet stood poised at the doors, and looked back to her squad.

They awaited her, eyes fluttering to the doors and back, anxious, and afraid, much like her.

"We head through the gate, then swing left down the corridor and book it to the street, the police are probably gonna arrive soon, and deal with them," and with that she laid her hands upon one of the door handles—

The doors swung inwards, nearly thwacking the reporter as she recoiled from the sudden force, and confronting the girls was none other than Nathan's right had man, Carl. Him and the two other lads flanking him were all draped with what looked to be plate carriers, dull green combat vests with pockets full of magazines and various items. In their hands, sleek and intimidating, were assault rifles, their barrels immediately pointed toward the quintet who raised their hands.

" _Jesus_ —!"

"Don't shoot—!"

" _Nobody fucking move_!" Markson barked, his lackeys saying similar phrases as they converged, rifles at the ready and circling the terrified girls, " _Outside, now_!"

It was over in seconds, and they corralled Juliet's group outside, poking them with their guns onwards towards the main building. They treaded skittishly, afraid that one of the hounds would just gun them down when they weren't looking. Juliet kept a grim frown plastered to not betray her sudden swell of fear.

They moved swiftly, and Carl led them to the bright red entrance of the main building, barging his way in and directing them to the cafeteria down the left hallway. Juliet saw the slumped forms of the two on-duty security guards, laying just outside the double-doors to the cafeteria. One poor soul had been shot, and a pool of crimson ichor was spilled around his head, the other was as still as him, also long gone. Carl glanced back in that moment, and smirked, like as if he knew they would notice, like he was proud. Watson's stomach tightened to knots.

He burst through the cafeteria doors, Juliet and her friends came in a second after and took in the sight of most the other students and teachers, herded into the open space and guarded with a couple more of Markson's hounds. They were ordered to toss their packs and bags, and were unceremoniously shoved into the mass of hostages, gathering together at the edge of the cowering populace.

"Keep an eye on these ones," Carl directed specifically to the guards, "Prescott has first pickings on which one gets the bullet when he comes back. See to it that they don't cause any disruptions until then," and those cold, gleeful eyes of his glared down at Juliet, and she knew why he had a smile on his face. It was only a matter of time for them now, and that terrible panic in her chest was inching at every second.

Markson and his posse took their leave then, leaving the girls with the couple of his other henchmen to sit and stew in their dread.

"You good?" Stella asked Brooke, who'd nearly smacked her face into the tile after being pushed.

"Yeah, I'm fine," came the bitter reply, as Juliet looked on into the crowd to discern any familiar faces, hoping to see none.

"This is fucked, we're so fucked," Dana murmured, unable to keep still, turning this way and that to find some way out of their predicament, "there's got to be a way out of here."

"There isn't," Alyssa hissed, eyeing the closest guard glaring daggers at them, "these guys are likely trigger happy, try anything and they might kill you without a second thought."

Juliet eyed their guards, two lads both armed with assault rifles of their own. Both had balaclavas or ski masks covering their faces, leaving only angry eyes visible. They had vests on as well, various shades of dark beige and woodland green. They stood uncaring over the crowd, who had taken to sitting on the floor and at the tables, speaking in hushed choruses of whispers and coughs.

From right next to her, Alyssa murmured her two cents, "guy right in front of us has a Ruger-556, thirty round magazine, probably semi-auto. His buddy's got the same setup, but I can't tell what rifle it is from here."

"Since when did you know anything about guns?" Dana snipped.

"You have to consider what best protects you from anyone who threatens you, self-defense doesn't have to be just a knife and pepper spray," Anderson rationalized, careful to keep her voice down, "After what happened to my mom, my family wasn't taking any chances, and neither are these guys."

Juliet concurred, and prayed for a higher power to save them from this hell.

"'Ey, Drake, come over here," and they all looked to the closest guard beckoning his friend, who trudged over as if annoyed, "What, what is it?"

"Ain't that the bitch you decked to the ground yesterday?" and the unknown lad pointed to Brooke, partially hidden behind an increasingly irate Stella.

"Y'know, now that you mention it, yeah, it is," and he sniggered like a goblin, ratty and squealing, "How does it feel, bitch? Still crying about it to your friends here?" he taunted.

"Fuck off," the Filipina deadpanned, fidgeting slightly further into the crowd.

"Nah, hold on, I wanna see it," and suddenly the boy—Drake—stepped right into the lot of them, brushing Dana off to the side and ready to trample his way to Brooke.

"Dude wait, don't—!" Drake's buddy readied his rifle.

"Get the fuck over here—" and the boy was suddenly blocked by Stella, who took the initiative to shove him back, knocking him slightly off balance and away from Brooke.

" _Fuck off, Hurensohn_ ," she barked, and was rewarded with a gun in her face, as Drake spat back at her, " _The fuck you just say to me?!_ "

"Stella, don't—!" Dana pleaded, the others simultaneously converged around the now standing girl, unflinching even with assured death staring back at her.

" _Sit the fuck down, dumb-nazi-bitch! You fucking hear me?!_ " Drake yelled, his eyes wild and his finger on the trigger. The entire cafeteria watched in muted terror as Stella did not back down, instead she smiled, wide and toothy and terrifying.

"You don't got the balls—!"

_Sch-thnk_

The sound of a knife sliding through flesh caught their attention, as frantic movement erupted behind Drake, startling them, and making the aggressor swing his rifle back towards his now flailing, screaming comrade.

" _What the fuck—?!_ "

Drake was immediately tackled by a lanky blue haired figure on his right, appearing from the cafeteria doors and driving the both of them to the floor. Scurrying from the mess, Juliet and her friends witnessed another figure, small and petite with chin length brown hair, scurry to blue's aid, restraining Drake who was on his stomach and yapping like a feral dog, demanding they let him go.

Juliet felt her eyes snap over to the sight of Drake's comrade going limp, and suddenly crumbling, dropping to the floor with his rifle like dead weight. The culprit to his demise stood over the dead hound, with a bloody knife clutched in their hand. This culprit was similar the brunette, but with roughened blonde hair and wide hazel eyes.

_Wait, that almost looks like—_

The cafeteria was struck silent as Max, Kate and Chloe consolidated around their still yapping prisoner, the latter stripping him of his AR and cueing him in by poking the barrel on the back of his head and growling, loudly, "Shut the fuck up, 'fore I blow your fucking head off _._ "

* * *

A/N - Hurensohn, _German_ , "Son of a bitch"


	3. Rebellion to Tyrants

"All that is necessary for the triumph of evil is that good men do nothing." - Edmund Burke

* * *

In seconds, the crowd of students and faculty sprang into madness, and rushed for the exits out of the cafeteria and into the unknown. For while their chance at escape from Prescott and his revolutionaries was not assured, it was a chance, and they'd take it if it meant they could be free. Yet, such was not the mentality of Juliet and her group, as they instead formed around the trio who'd rescued them, waiting until some teachers had come over to secure the still yapping guard on the floor. One of the faculty members relieving Chloe of the rifle she held, and stood close to the sniveling rat, keeping him in check.

"Kate, is that you?" Dana cautiously asked, and the quintet gathered their attention to the short-haired blonde in question. Aside for the noticeable lack of her trademark bun, they could still discern Kate from her hazel eyes and small stature, equivalent to the mousy brunette standing beside her. But where there was once a timid brightness to those sparkling hazel orbs, therein lied a coldness instead, a sharpness like that of jagged, silver-hued steel, and that made them hesitate at calling this person Kate. And she looked to them, all of them, and did not smile, and it only made them even more uncomfortable.

"Yes," she blankly affirmed. Then she was swiveled by Max over to where Chloe was, who'd begun looting the dead body of Drake's comrade, and was beckoned by the brunette with a quick, " _Help Chloe get what she needs_ ," then shuffling over to the punk, that bloody knife still in Marsh's right hand.

"Is it just you five?" Max suddenly turned to them, and Juliet's quintet hesitated at the suddenness of the question.

"Yeah, it's just us," Juliet confirmed, "you're Max, right? Max Caulfield?"

"Yeah, that's me."

"You got any idea what's going on?"

"No clue, we," Caulfield gestured to herself and the two over yonder, "just got back to Blackwell and snuck in here, saw what was happening."

"Wait, you _just_ got back? I thought you were still hiding in the dorms with Kate," Watson inquired. Max did not answer her, and looked away.

The few faculty members and students that hadn't rushed out the cafeteria with the stampede were now slinking past the exits, with the few teachers still holding down the guard at gunpoint. At least one of these teachers was on the phone with the police department, and no doubt the force would be here within the next quarter-hour.

"Look, we have to get the hell out of here," Max beckoned them, "get your stuff if you want, but hurry."

The quintet looked to their bags and unanimously agreed that it was not worth the weight to carry. Instead they followed the brunette and her companions, the punk now armed with the dead guard's assault rifle, and the blonde still clutching her knife.

They made their way out the cafeteria, now into the hall. To their left was the main intersection—to their right, the north wing of the main building. No one dared to stare at the bodies in the hall.

"Swing left, towards the doors!" Caulfield directed them, and they moved for the red exit doors down toward the intersection. Beyond that, a few students came running from the hall ahead of them, from the school's south wing, screaming for their lives and ducking into the classrooms along the locker-decked halls.

" _They're coming! They're coming from the second floor!_ " came a cry, and like rats the students scurried out of sight, into whatever corner they could hide in.

From where she was, Juliet watched as Victoria and her two minions dived into the secretary's office, quickly shutting the door. Their own group of eight quickly realized those students were ducking away from danger, and searched for the nearest cover.

"Get the fuck in here, _now_ , all of you!" the bluenette barked, as the nearby door to the school's storage room was pushed open, and they rushed their way in, with Price immediately shutting the door and training her rifle at it, slowly skirting back. In the darkness, they all clamored about the tight space, a clatter arose as they tripped over themselves.

"Get over here, over here!"

"Fuck, I can't move!"

"Watch it, watch it—" _clang_

" _FUCK!_ Aw shit that _hurts—_ "

"You good?"

Yeah, I think so—"

" _Shut up, shut up! They're coming!_ "

The voices hushed, and they collectively eyed the narrow slit under the wooden door, beaming the light from the hall into the pitch black they hid in. There was no sound except the slight creak of the shelves they partially hid behind, the muffled cries from outside having died out long ago.

They waited.

As the eyes adjusted to the light, Juliet could see the lanky, armed bluenette in front of her, in front of all of them, and what little light there was reflected off the polished metal of the carbine she held, still pointed towards the door. It might be from her own fright, but the reporter could see the rifle shake, held in that shuddering grip. Price was afraid. Someone began whimpering off to Juliet's left, and was quietly hushed by another after a few seconds.

They were all afraid.

They felt it first, the drumming. Footfalls. A mob of them, moving closer. Some voices came, muffled, but growing clearer, louder. The girls braced themselves even tighter to cover.

Shadows danced across the sliver of light, and Price adjusted her aim, still shuddering. The voices were still indiscernible, but they could tell the hounds were right outside the door. The chorus of vile barking moved past them, further down the hall.

Juliet realized they were moving towards what would be the cafeteria.

The shouting spiked, and was immediately followed by the roaring of gunshots, bursts of fire echoing down the hall and ringing off the floor. They all collectively flinched as the staccato intensified, then ceased just as abruptly.

Watson clutched the sides of her head as her ears rang, beside her the silhouettes of her friends shuffled as far as they could from the terrible noise.

Shouting started up again, and the footsteps passed the sliver of light, towards the intersection and what would be the girls' freedom. The dreadful noise diminished, until all they could hear was the slight ringing in their ears.

They waited, then collectively jumped again as the shots sounded once more, falling off erratically. The straggling _pops_ and _bangs_ grew fainter, fewer, until there was silence again.

Clinging to the shelves, they huddled close, and waited.

Ears perked for the slightest sound.

Seconds ticked by, one after the other.

Juliet watched as Price, rifle still in hand, stood from where she had been crouched, and slowly approached the door, a smaller silhouette—Max—following right behind her. Spurred on, Juliet herself rose from where she hid, and heard the shuffle of her friends doing the same. Slowly, everyone gathered near the door.

" _Slow and steady, Chlo,_ " whispered Max, the shadow of an arm reached for the doorknob, " _I got it_ ," the bluenette hushed back.

The bolt was turned, slowly, and with a slight pull, Caulfield cracked the door open, and what small amount of light flooded into the darkness. Chloe edged her head out to see beyond the door and down the hall, with her carbine at the ready, doing the same for the opposite side.

"Go," the bluenette hissed, and she darted out from the threshold, with Max and the others following suit as they raced for the intersection. No one dared to look towards the cafeteria, focused on hustling out and along the wall towards the red doors, their ticket to safety. The armed punk waited at the corner for all of them to stack up behind her before turning, and clumsily slid into another corner now right beside the exit, peeking through the small glass windows in the wooden door frames.

In the second she dared to look, Price witnessed an armed group coming from the outside. They were climbing the courtyard steps in front of the street and looked to be heading right towards her and the rest of the girls.

" _Shit,_ " she swore, turning and gesturing wildly for Max and the others, "They're coming from outside, we gotta move!" and the eight of them scrambled across the intersection, with desperation Chloe charged the secretary office's door nearby, slamming the handle down and driving herself into it, busting it open.

* * *

"Get in, _get in!_ " and the girls dove into the space, with Chloe slamming the door as the last of their group passed the threshold, engaging the door lock for good measure.

"Oh god, oh fuck, oh god," Dana wheezed, beside her Stella, Kate and Brooke had taken their spots behind the large secretary's desk, with Juliet and Alyssa crouching beside them, "that was fucking scary, man."

"Wait, _wait!_ " and they waited, then heard the muffled sound of the entrance doors swinging open, and a mob of footsteps soon after.

" _Get up to the second floor, let's go!_ " came a crisp bellow, and the hounds shifted away from where the girls hid, towards the stairs at the end of the halls.

"Alright, I…I think we're good," muttered Max, rising from behind a cabinet, "that was too close."

"Ya fuckin' think?" hissed Stella, "One wrong move, and we'd be dead."

"We should get the hell out of here, while their up top," Brooke spoke up, "we could skirt along the building, and make a break for it before they see us."

"What if there's more outside?" Dana shakily sputtered, "What if they see us from up there? They'll tear us to pieces before we can blink."

"Not if I cover," Chloe countered, clutching her AR close, "I—I can keep them pinned, and let you all get to safety before they can shoot back."

"What about you," Alyssa asked, "who'll cover you when you have to run?"

"Then…then _fuck it_ , it's a sacrifice I'm willing to make."

"No one's sacrificing anything," Max pointedly ordered, "we're all going to get out of here alive, that's the plan."

"How?" Stella trembled, "how the fuck are we gonna get out of this? They're everywhere, there's nowhere to run," she lamented, "we'd be better off waiting for the police to arrive."

"You think they stand a chance against what those bastards got?" Chloe bit, "Pigs'll get shredded before they could even get out of their cars."

"There's got to be a way out of this," Max reasoned, "maybe we just—"

"Jules?" Dana blurted, and the others turned to see Watson pressed up against the door to the principal's office, "Jules, what the fuck are you doing?"

"Victoria, you in there?" Juliet gently knocked on the door, "Victoria, it's me, open up!"

Confused, the rest were surprised as the handle was turned, and the Queen made herself known, with Courtney and Taylor hovering just behind her.

"Christ, aren't you a sight for sore eyes," Chase remarked, "at least you're still in one piece."

"Same to you," Juliet replied, "you got any idea about this whole shit-show?"

"No, I'm just as clueless as you are," the pixie blonde looked back to her two friends, "we tried running, but look where _that_ got us."

"We can still get out of here, y'know," Chloe suggested, "we just got to time it right."

"It's too risky to go through the main entrance," Max countered, "we need another route, somewhere they won't expect."

Victoria brightened at the notion, "I think I can help you all with that," and she stepped aside, her trio moving from the door to somewhere inside the principal's room. With renewed purpose, the eight of them followed.

There seemed to be an immediate difference in the room once Juliet and the others stepped inside Wells's pristine abode. The chairs for any guests had been pushed off to the side, the same for the large mahogany desk and Wells's personal chair. Gasps arose as they discovered Wells himself, laying on his side against the bulky desk, a bloody rag was draped over his obscured head. He was still as stone.

Juliet, and in turn the rest of them, spared the body a moment's pity, then ignored it, choosing to move on.

Chase had placed herself and her two aides just opposite to the shifted furniture, looking at something next to one of the shifted bookshelves surrounding the room. Upon closer inspection, it became clear that they beheld a sort of hole, as in a perfectly carved out section of the wall. Concrete stairs extended downwards, spiraling, towards what could only be described as near pitch black, the light from the office being the only form of illumination before the plunge.

"So, Fat-Man Wells had his own personal dungeon, ain't that _wonderful_ ," Price joked, and the girls anxiously snickered.

"How did he get this? Was this always here?" Max wondered.

"Maybe it's one of those shelters they built during the Cold War, in case the bombs fell," Chase guessed, "the point being, we wait this out down there, and come back out when it's all over."

No one objected to the promise of safety.

So with Chloe guarding, the ten of them filed down the stairs, holding hands upon shoulders so as to guide them through the lack of light. Max and Kate led them on, slowly, brushing their hands against the wall so as to avoid tripping.

They stepped down those concrete stairs, eyes slightly adjusting to the absence of warmth. Caulfield, up in the very front, hesitatingly pushed on, the cold walls leading her and her caravan down to what ought to be the shelter. She, like the rest, moved cautiously, awaiting a sign that their efforts were to pay off.

_There!_

Eyes zeroed in on the slight brightness that gave shape to a curve in the proceeding steps. Their sanctuary was close. The pace of their lurking picked up as the light grew brighter, clearer. An entryway with one last door stood before them at the bottom of the spiral stairway, the bright fluorescents shining through the small window in the center of the door's steel frame. Invigorated with the hope to be away from assured danger, Max clutched the handle of the door and pushed it open, rushing headlong to safety—

She froze mid-step, and nearly tripped over herself.

The room was large, and spacious. It was not intricate, by any means; just a simple rectangular space buried deep in the ground. There were no outlets, no sub-caverns, just a plain concrete chamber with four sides and a ceiling and floor. The door they came through operated on a sort of hydraulic system that maintained the entrance's security, closing it shut when not forced open.

This was excluding what lied within said room, as the girls took quick notice of when barging into the shelter. Crates, shoulder-width and roughly a foot high, stacked upon each other, were placed in the center of the room and reached up to the ceiling, and had narrow walkways for one to tread in between them. Along the walls, stretching from just beside the door and circling the entirety of the space, there lay racks upon racks of weapons, various rifles and automatics secured in their slots. Above those racks, in small storage cubicles built just above them, were clusters of steel helmets, plate carriers, combat vests and so forth.

In front of them, some of the crates had been pried open, their contents being smaller canisters stuffed with ammunition. Shiny brass bullets shone brightly compared to the dullness of the other objects surrounding them, and like moths to the flame, the girls slowly approached. Max took a knee, bending down and taking a single round in her hands, idly smelling the heavy tang of metal and damp concrete.

"What the fuck?" came a murmur from behind the brunette, and she turned to see the same bewilderment adorned on Dana's brow, "What is this place?"

"I don't think this is an ordinary shelter guys," Stella commented, observing the many guns lining the walls, "but it's a shelter, nonetheless."

"No shit," mumbled Brooke, "but it should be empty, shouldn't it? Why is all this stuff here?"

"They're using it," Taylor suggested, and everyone caught on as fear crept in her words, "They're using this as a place to store their weapons, in case they need more. They're gonna come back down here when they run out, and they'll find us."

The hydraulic door was pushed open, and the girls jumped, recoiling from the newcomer.

"A'ight, I sealed the top with one of the shelves, they ain't gonna find us—" and Chloe stopped at the exasperated looks sent her way, "…what? What're y'all looking at me like that for?"

Her bright blue eyes looked to the weaponry surrounding them, widening at the sight.

"Oh, oh shit."

* * *

A/N - Abandon all hope, ye who tread further in search of a peaceful resolution.


	4. Isaiah Six-Eight

"Also I heard the voice of the Lord, saying, Whom shall I send, and who will go for us? Then said I, Here _am_ I; send me." - Isaiah 6:8, King James Version, America Edition

* * *

It was curiosity that led them to fan out and observe the various spectacles in the shelter they resided in. Walking through the towers of crates brought to light the sheer amount of them, some were wooden rectangles with dove-tailed grips on their sides, others were a deep army green and box-like. Some were larger than others, and most peculiarly, many were inscribed in various foreign languages, some in Romanized letters, some in Cyrillic, some in East Asian characters.

A plethora of other equipment preceded what they assumed was the ammunition, and the further they strode from the door, the more they encountered displays of various handheld grenades and Improvised Explosive Devices, sat carefully in their respective containers.

Some girls, much like the Queen and her posse, took care to stay very clear of the weapons and equipment, refusing to touch anything. Others, like the wide-eyed, curious Alyssa and excited Chloe took a more hands-on approach to the stockpile, intrigued by the various designs and shapes.

Max found herself stuck in the dead middle, unsure of what to do with the situation presented.

"We shouldn't be down here long, Taylor's right," Chase spoke up, "if they're using this place, then we have to look for another spot to ride this…this siege out. I say we leave everything, and cover our tracks so that they don't find out we've been down here."

"Hold up," and Chloe made her way over from one of the racks of rifles she and Anderson were inspecting, "How do you know that we can get all of us—all _eleven_ of us—past them without getting spotted someway and somehow? Sooner or later, they're gonna notice that not everyone made it out after what happened up there," and everyone shivered at the thought of the cafeteria, "We outta to take the fight to these fuckers, while we still have a chance."

"Are you suggesting we straight up _fight_ them?" Victoria exasperated, eyeing the punk across from her in absolute bewilderment, "that's not even a bad idea, that's just plainly _suicidal_. Most of us have never held a gun in our lives—" a quick glance around showed that the pixie blonde was dead-on in her assumption, "and even if we did, how the hell are we supposed to go against the firepower they have? You said it yourself, Price: if the cops who are trained with guns can't fight them, then _we_ most certainly can't."

"The pigs don't got a chance 'cause they're armed with service revolvers and shotguns," Chloe reasoned, "but us? We'll be armed with what these bastards got, not some peashooter from the PD," and to make her point clear, Price reached for a nearby rack and pulled a rifle from its rung, its slender, polished wooden furniture and furnished metal bolt glistened slightly under the light, "this is a bolt-action rifle, these things fire a heavier round than the slugs and pistol rounds the police use. In other words, better chance to knock Prescott's puppets off their asses."

"So we're supposed to use relics from a hundred years ago against those modern, fully automatic assault rifles they have now," then Victoria smothered sarcastically, "truly, your best plan yet Price, I wholeheartedly agree."

"It's technically about sixty years old, actually," Alyssa butted in, "That's a Mauser carbine, and if the markings are what I think they are," and at the beckoning gesture, Price handed the rifle over, "…yeah, it's a Yugoslav M48. Five shot, 7.92-by-57 millimeter cartridge," then the stocky girl took hold of the shiny metal bolt, cycling it back and opening the breach, "and in such lovely condition, too," she gushed, drawing concerned looks from those around her.

"…yeah," Chase remarked, "Anyways, it's old, and I'm not interested in getting my head blown off trying to fight murderers armed to the teeth."

"So then what? You're just gonna cower in a corner while they kill everyone else in their way?" the punk retorted, "they're not gonna magically go away once they're done, Vicky. I mean, look at this," Price swept her arm over the mountains of munitions and weapons, "this is enough for an entire goddamn army. They'll last for months on this shit."

"Then we get the hell out of here while we still have a chance," the pixie blonde asserted, arms crossed and standing tall, " _without the guns_ ; they'll do us more harm than good if we cannot use them."

"Nah, I'm not passing this up," Chloe snipped back, frown etching on her face, "if you don't wanna stick it to your boy toy after he goes on a murder spree against innocent people, then it's clear you're better off sitting in a corner and out of our way."

"Well excuse you, _Price_ , but you're the only one with the sacrificial tendencies here," Chase venomously spat, "everyone else would prefer to stay alive, and not toss their lives away because _you_ feel the need—

" _Guys!_ "

Both bickering girls turned to the disgruntled, mousy brunette, who exasperated, "Since we can't agree to either, how about this: We prioritize making our way out of Blackwell—" and Victoria eased the glare she held ever slightly, "—and at the same time, we will all be armed, so that if they do confront us, we can defend ourselves," then Chloe curtly nodded at the compromise.

"I can get behind that," Juliet spoke up, and some nodding from the rest of her group made their opinions known. Alyssa smiled broadly, courageous, slinging the rifle upon her shoulder and humming a bold ' _I agree_ '. Courtney and Taylor did the same as they stood beside Chase.

There came the sound of a bolt cycling from behind Max, and she turned to see Kate, who held another Mauser in hand, inspecting the breach momentarily before looking up, and nodding.

* * *

It became clear to everyone after they had agreed to the idea of a defensive retreat out of Blackwell, that they had to be as acquainted with their weapons as possible. A long-winded synopsis from Alyssa taught them to ascertain a feel to whatever weapon they chose, and among the lot of them, did they choose the simplistic design of the Mausers on the racks.

There were exceptions, however. Chase, vehement in her desire to not be caught alive nor dead with a giant boom-stick in hand, fielded a smaller, more intricate submachine gun, identified by Anderson as a Heckler & Koch 9-by-19 millimeter MP5 _A2_ , with the stocky gun nerd emphasizing the end of the acronym to the compact gun's fixed buttstock. Dana, in an effort to be the group's leading support, had picked a rather sturdy looking gun, just as long, if not longer than the Mauser carbines and with a very intricate bipod at the end of its barrel. The firearm fangirl determined the heavy gun to be a Colt R75A, a commercial variant of the more commonly known Browning BAR. It was to no end that Anderson gushed about the famous 30-06' round the gun fired, a sort of zealous passion came forth as she spoke her praise.

It should be noted that during the entire explanation made of these firearms by the proud, boisterous Alyssa, there were at least five very concerned stares observing her spectacle.

"With what you know, Anderson, I'd reckon you'd been planning for something like this," Chase abruptly commented, and was received with some nervous chuckles from the others, "No offense," she quickly added.

"When he's not at his gym, my father spends whatever free time he has with collecting, guns specifically. Has been for most the time I've been around, it's only natural he'd teach me these things."

"Your dad's got a whole stash of guns, doesn't he?" Stella asked, grinning lightheartedly.

"As a collection, yes, he does. It's mostly for show, he rarely considers firing them. I always wondered what it'd be like, to shoot a weapon from a period of time I hadn't known," Alyssa admitted, looking down at her own weapon of choice: a Ruger Mini-14 chambered in 5.56-by-45 millimeter, complete with a full wooden stock and similar magazines to Chloe's modern carbine. Not interchangeable, though – Alyssa made sure to clarify that before Price conceived any dubious ideas.

"You're such a nerd, dude," said punk jested with a wicked smirk, "I respect the wisdom though."

"So, we got the weapons we wanted," and Brooke pointed to the few crates they managed to open, each containing a separate caliber that they all required, "and we got the ammo, but how do we use it? How do we use our weapons?"

"Gather 'round, I'll help you all out on this," and they gathered around Anderson, enclosing a semi-circle around the gun nerd.

"We'll start with the Mauser rifles you all have," so Alyssa carefully sets her Mini-14 aside, and reaches for a spare M48 from the racks, "this, as I've stated before, is a Yugoslav M48, developed in the late 40's just after the Second World War. It is, by all means, a near identical copy of the _Karabiner_ 98K, the main rifle used by the German Army. It feeds from a five round stripper clip," and the audience witnessed her pick up a clip of five rounds off a case, all slotted beside each other with a small metal strip at the rims of the cartridges, "thus feeding into an internal, fixed magazine. This means that unlike Price with her AR, or Dana with her R75A, none of you are going to be worrying about fishing for magazines."

"What you _will_ be worrying about," and Alyssa angled herself so that they could see her demonstration, keeping the barrel towards the concrete wall and away from them, "is feeding the rounds into the rifle. The first thing you do is open the bolt—"

_Ker—chak_

"The breach is now open, and you can insert the clip of rounds into the magazine. There is a port on the metal surface just behind the breach, it will help you guide the rounds into the magazine so that you won't mess up. Remember, now: you cannot be a baby about this, you _will_ fumble with the loading if you're too slow or too soft on pushing the rounds down," and with a bit of dramatic exertion, Anderson pressed down on the stack of rounds with her thumb, loading the ammo into the magazine. With a flick, the empty stripper clip was tossed from its place, clattering to the ground.

"Now that the rounds are in, all that's left is to close the bolt—" and the bolt is cycled forward with another _ker—chak_ , "and now, you are ready to fire the rifle. You would then aim your rifle, by lining up both the front and rear sights onto your target, and then squeeze the trigger. Once you squeeze the trigger, a striker built into the bolt will ignite the primer at the bottom of the round, and it will combust the powder and send the bullet flying out of the barrel. Once you've fired, you repeat the process of cycling the bolt back, and then forward again, to eject the spent casing and load a fresh round."

Alyssa grips the bolt handle, "Think of it like this: out with the old," the bolt is pulled up and back, and the first round is promptly ejected from the breach, "then, in with the new," she cycles the bolt forward, and they could see the next round be pushed into the chamber before it closes, then the handle is pressed down.

"You will repeat this process until you spend all five rounds," and the instructor cycles the bolt again, and again, until all five rounds have been ejected from the gun, "when you run out, you open the bolt and load with another stripper clip. That simple."

A hand shot up from the bedazzled crowd, and its owner, Stella, pipes up, "Can we load the rounds one by one, individually?"

"Yes, you can, but it's much quicker to load them in a clip. You spend less time fumbling the five rounds in your hands and more time shooting bad guys with them."

Another hand, "Where's the safety on this, or does it have one at all?" Dana asked.

"It's on the back part of the bolt," Alyssa pointed to an extended metal piece behind the main part of said bolt, slanted horizontally to the left side of the gun, "when it's slanted to the left like this, it's in the fire position," then, Anderson shifted the piece up so that it was vertical, "this is what I call ' _semi-safety_ ,' you can move the bolt but you cannot fire the trigger," then she turned it horizontally right, "this is ' _full safety_ ,' meaning you cannot operate the bolt nor the trigger," then the girls watched Alyssa try to open the bolt, ultimately unable to do so.

"Since there's a chance we might have to use these rifles, we'll have the safeties set to fire," flicking the piece all the way to the left, Anderson cycles the bolt back open, inspecting the breach, "because of this, I must stress this to each and every one of you using this rifle: unless the bolt is open like this or in full safety, _do not point your rifles at each other_. These are the only instruments we can use to _protect_ ourselves from harm, and should be used only when necessary, which means no fucking around. Only point these with the intent to kill, not to play. That is all."

Faces hardened at the stern warning, some nodded.

"Those with the Mausers, go ahead and get some ammo for yourselves," Max called out, closest to the crates of ammunition, "the rest of you, listen to what Alyssa's got to say."

A commotion arose as the majority of the girls, with their M48s carefully in hand, surrounded the crates and sorted for their specific cartridge. Victoria, Dana, and Chloe, the exceptions, huddled closer to the raven haired girl and awaited advice.

"I'll start with you, Victoria," Anderson began, much to the others' displeasure, "your MP5 _A2_ fires a 9-by-19 millimeter Parabellum pistol cartridge, and is designed with the intention of burst fire and-or automatic fire."

The stocky girl beckoned for the gun, and Chase handed it over, "the unique thing about the MP5 is that its recoil is in part negated by its free-floating barrel, making it easier to control when spewing rounds. It has a selector switch on its left side next to the trigger," Alyssa points to the white and red etchings close to the pistol grip and trigger guard, "this white one is a safety, meaning it will not fire; the single red marker is semi-auto fire, and the ones above that, burst and automatic fire."

"Reloading the MP5 is a little more complicated than with the Mauser," the nerd continued, angling the gun to get a better grip, "there's other ways, but the most assured way to load is taking the bolt handle and bringing it back," a hand took hold of the bolt, pulling back, "to lock it open, you fold it up, into the bolt lock here," she clarified by sliding the bolt up into a slot along the curve of the handguard, "once you lock the bolt open, you take the magazine out using this mag release just in front of the trigger guard, like so," pressing the mag release, Alyssa tugged the slender, curved magazine from the gun.

"I…see," Chase noted, "and do I just insert a new magazine, or…?"

"Almost," Anderson then grinned, looking excited, "you slide the new magazine into the mag well, like this—"

_click_

"Once you hear that click, you get the honor of taking your hand and, if you're cool enough, slapping the bolt out-of-lock and closed," and with a swift _thwack_ , the bolt unlocked and crisply snapped closed, and Chloe grinned at the display, with Dana looking wide eyed in awe.

Victoria was unimpressed.

"Huh, cool."

"You're gonna havta' do better than that dude, Icky Vicky's a tough crowd to impress," Price jested, with Dana chuckling beside her as Victoria sidelined the punk with a glare.

"I just think it's cool," Alyssa bashfully muttered, "you can just manipulate the bolt out of the lock if you want," and she directed to the Queen then, "if you learn how to quickly work the bolt handle and control bursts, you'll be a serious threat to whoever tries to fight you."

"I think I get it now, thank you Alyssa," Chase took the offered submachine gun from the gun nut, and made her way to the cluster of girls by the crates.

"Dana," the black-haired girl beckoned, "your gun's got a lot of history behind it, but I'll spare the details. There's a selector switch on the left side of the gun, with safe, automatic, and semi-auto fire, much like Victoria's. The mag release is a button inside the trigger guard, right in front of the trigger," Alyssa demonstrated by pushing it and pulling the slanted box magazine from the gun.

"I want you to remember what I tell you about this next part: this R75A fires from an open bolt, meaning that before you insert a new mag, you _must_ charge the bolt handle on the side of the gun. This will ready the bolt, and the gun will fire once you put the magazine in and pull the trigger. Because of this, keep your gun on safety at all times, and _don't point it at anyone_ ," Alyssa lectured, handing the gun and its magazine back to the awestruck cheerleader.

"Got it, 'lyssa," Ward replied, and bounced her way to the crates for ammo.

"Ahm, Chloe, right?" Anderson cautiously asked, unsure.

"Yeah, wassup?"

"Considering the others, your gun is a bit easier to handle," so being handed the rifle, Alyssa kept the barrel away from the both of them and pressed a button near the magazine well, sliding the mag out, "there's a button on the right side, it's the mag release. When you're out, press the button and the mag will drop from the housing, and you'll slap a new one in. The charging handle is this two-prong piece near the back," Alyssa took her index and middle finger and pulled the protruding handle back, a single round was spat out the ejection port and ricocheted off the concrete floor, rolling next to Price's boot.

The punk knelt down and picked the round up, "Ah, well ain't that swell?" she smirked.

"I'm pretty sure you know what to do when it comes to these things," Alyssa considered, handing the magazine first and then the rifle to the taller girl, "Just don't be reckless, your rifle's not designed for full auto fire. Don't ask me for mags either, you know they're not gonna feed properly," the gun nerd jabbed, earning a cackle from her lankier friend.

"I'm just messin' with you dude, I got it," Price dissuaded, grinning, "we gotta save Max and the others in case they get caught with their pants down, y'know?"

Anderson hummed in agreement, and together with Chloe, they made their way to the mess of girls clambering through opened and soon-to-be-opened ammo cans. Some marveled at the various languages inscribed on the tins, others were jamming round after round into whatever spare mags and clips they could find. Much to Alyssa's silent dismay, a few girls had decided to stuff cartridges into the pouches of their donned combat vests, which had been yanked from the cubbies above the racks.

"I got some spare seven-nine-two millimeter, who needs some?"

"Pass me somma'dat, holmes—" and an enthusiastic Stella reached for Juliet's offered tin, greedily taking the brass in mighty handfuls.

"Make sure you divide the ammunition _equally_ , be sure your buddies have enough as well," Max called out to them, helping Victoria with a case of pistol cartridges.

"Yeah, Stella," the tin in the ebony girl's hands was ripped from her greedy clutches, "save some for the rest of us, why don't you," Brooke cheekily snipped, and was rewarded with an obnoxious raspberry from her friend.

"Taylor, could you help me with this?" from beyond the two bickerers, Dana was straining 30-06' rounds into some spare mags she had scrounged, yet her difficulty brought her to a snail's pace when it came to loading. The blonde in question shuffled from her spot next to a busy Courtney, taking a seat next to the auburnette and observing the way she loaded the cartridges, one by one, into the mag.

"You're pressing too hard on the middle. Here, let me," and Christensen took a spare round, and instead of vertically pressing down, Taylor slotted the narrow side of the bullet under the mag lips, easily sliding it through into the magazine.

"Oh," Dana muttered, a bit embarrassed, "thanks, Taylor."

"It's alright," the blonde smiled, "Let's get these sorted out."

The sound of metal clanged as Price pulled the lid off an ammo can, burying her hand in and coming out teeming with shiny 5.56 brass. Grinning heartily, she set them next to Anderson, who busied herself with loading them quickly into thirty and twenty round mags for the both of them.

Closer to the door, and the furthest away from the cluster of the group, Kate sat with her knees up, against a tower of more crates, clutching the golden cross around her neck with her left hand, her rifle held tightly in the grip of her right. She had already taken her fill of ammunition and gear, and, closing her weary hazel eyes, prayed in hushed whispers.

"Our Father, thou art in Heaven. Hallowed be thy name."

Juliet cycled the bolt of her Mauser back, and with her free hand, placed a stripper clip of five rounds in the port below the breach. With a forceful press, the rounds were slotted from the clip into the internal magazine, and Watson cycled the bolt forward and engaged the safety.

"Thy Kingdom come, thy Will be done, on Earth as it is in Heaven."

Victoria clicked the loaded, curved magazine into her MP5, and with a deft _swack_ , charged the bolt forward, flicking the selector to safety.

"Give us this day our hope to live, and forgive us our transgressions, as we carry out your Will, in your grace."

Dana fiddled with the strap of a metal helmet, having swiped it along with her vest, and with a tug, secured the metal helm on her head. Next to her, Taylor and Courtney were passing out small ear muffs to everyone else.

"Give us the strength to fight in your name, 'till our time can no longer beckon."

Stella finished with the many Velcro straps of her body armor, giving an anticipated Brooke a thumbs up and a toothy smile.

"And lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil."

Alyssa and Chloe came trudging by, carrying a pair of combat boots in each of their hands, passing them out to the other girls. They stuffed their flatfooted shoes and sandals into a couple small, beige-brown backpacks, and picked lots on who was to carry them.

"In your love and glory, Amen."

And Max reached a hand out to Kate, who opened her eyes and took the hand in a tight clasp, and was hoisted from the cold floor. Together, they joined the huddle of girls gathering at the hydraulic exit.

* * *

A/N - A writer might dare to appeal to their specific interests when engaging in a story of their creation, and so long as this interest is brought about by a genuine passion and by logical presentation, it may serve the story well. Being a citizen of the United States, I very much value the God-given, lawfully enshrined right to keep and bear arms, and I imagine that many who respect the idea of standing one's ground and defending one's life and property feel the same. Political connotations aside, it becomes necessary given the situation our protagonists find themselves in, to seek no safer alternative than to take up arms.

There is a reason I have selected the specific firearms mentioned in this story, and not their more famous, or well-known counterparts. A lot of reasons determine these specific choices, but chief among them is this: the antique firearms that are featured (the bolt-action M48 Mauser, the Colt R75A automatic rifle) are guns that were designed as commercial firearms to the public, or were produced in vast enough numbers that allowed for a great deal of military-surplus spending for those interested in purchasing such firearms. It is more likely that these weapons would end up in the hands of a citizen, despite the firearm's service in any military or otherwise, than their more famous counterparts (the Kar98k, the Browning BAR).

It is one thing to give these inexperienced, completely unprepared characters firearms, and another thing to expect proper etiquette of them with handling such firearms. The difference between a dangerous gun owner and a law-abiding gun owner, is one who knows how to carry their weapon. This is why I had Alyssa emphasize this during her monologue: in the right hands, a firearm can be a proper and fitting tool for the express purpose of self-defense, but in the wrong hands, it will lead to terrible consequences.

For more information on the firearms mentioned, I've pasted the Wiki-links to each firearm specified below;

[Mauser M48](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Zastava_M48)

[Colt Monitor R75A](https://guns.fandom.com/wiki/Colt_Monitor)

[H&K MP5 _A2_](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Heckler_%26_Koch_MP5)

[Ruger SR-556](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ruger_SR-556)

[Ruger Mini-14](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ruger_Mini-14)

For some additional content about these firearms, I recommend these YouTube videos as linked below;

[_Forgotten Weapons_ \- Adventures in Surplus: Yugoslav M48 Mauser - YouTube](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xw0LAhNBC3w)

[_Forgotten Weapons_ \- Colt R75A: The Last Commercial BAR (With Shooting) - YouTube](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BxIOdnoPnxM)

[_GunMagWarehouse_ and _Garand Thumb_ \- Full On with the Full Auto H&K MP5 | Garand Thumb - YouTube](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0ZTvta_oB0E)

[_Wrenched Out Experiment_ \- Ruger SR - 556 Review and breakdown - YouTube](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MZIJypt43N0)

[_Hickock45_ \- Ruger Mini-14 Chapter One - YouTube](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ej39umHaB08)

[_Hickock45_ \- Ruger Mini 14 Chapter Two - YouTube](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Vj5TSzUegGQ&t=1s)


	5. Speak of the Devil

A/N - To those who think they cannot handle the terror, this is your final warning. Turn back now, or forever hold your breath.

* * *

The secretary office's door handle was turned ever so slowly downward, and with a muffled _crink_ , was it opened the slightest. A gentle force pushed the door farther open, and the barrel of a gun poked from the crevasse, giving way to a clutching hand and arm, and then a face.

Chloe swung her semi-auto rifle towards the direction opposite the opening door, looking down to the intersection, and gestured to the inside of the room with a wave of her free hand. It was answered as one by one, the girls filed out of the office, weapons at the ready or pointed high to avoid one another. They filled the space of the hall, guns looking both directions for any of Nathan's hounds.

The clatter of their vests, along with Juliet and Alyssa's backpacks was kept to a quiet minimum as they shifted towards the corner of the intersection, Chloe taking point and waiting impatiently for the rest to stack up behind her. Max, having made the mistake of being among the last up the steps, was now trying to squeeze her way from her spot down the column, and, anxious that Chloe wouldn't heed her, made haste to reach her best friend. Yet her luck betrayed her, and with one wrong foot in front of the other she tripped, and dropped like a hammer on the tile, the vest and her rifle in her hand clanging against the linoleum.

_Clang_

It was horribly loud in that quiet hall, echoing in the silence, and Caulfield raised her head in a panic. Everyone glanced at her worriedly, as she silently beckoned Chloe to stop, and then froze over a sudden baritone cry, "Lars, the fuck was that?"

Chloe cursed Max with a silent, terrible frown, before she readied her assault rifle. The other girls hunched themselves, awaiting.

"It sounded like it came from the hall—Matt, is that you?" came a hushed cry from around the corner of the wall, "Matt? Sav? You guys there?"

Silence.

"Yo, get on the radio—" and Price snapped around the corner, lining her sights on some boy wedged between the opposite wall and the side of the doors, and quickly squeezed the trigger.

**_BANG-BANBANBANG_ **

The first round hit his jaw at an angle, and viscously tore half of the mandible from his face, as the rest buried themselves into center mass, the carcass slumping down the corner to the floor. Ears ringing despite the ear muffs, Chloe turned for the other corner, seeing the sheer fright on the dead boy's comrade for a split second, before her gun's muzzle flashed again with an equally thunderous roar.

A torrent of lead from outside suddenly shattered the glass windows of the red exit doors, and the punk recoiled, being pulled by Max's reach out of harm's way and swearing like a sailor. The others cried out too, as the snap of bullets impacting concrete walls and wooden doors rung loudly inside the hallway.

"Back, we gotta fall back, _we can't stay here!_ " Max shouted over the madness, and the girls clumsily huddled and made their way down the hall of the south wing, driven not by the order but by their own movement. In the madness, they bunched close to each other and guided themselves through frantic swaying of arms and scurrying of boots.

The door to the stairs at the end of the south hall burst open, and a lone hound of Nathan's ilk came barreling towards them, shouting incomprehensibly over the gunfire as he noticed the armed group of girls.

" _What the fuck—!_ "

Taylor was the first to raise her rifle and squeeze the trigger, the round missed and clanged off the metal frame of the doors behind him. Kate instantly followed up with a shot from her Mauser, scoring a hit to the boy's right shoulder. He twirled from the force, his own assault rifle spitting its fury into the ceiling as he collapsed, shrieking like a banshee. His howling was silenced as Alyssa's Mini-14 barked one, two, three shots into his writhing form, and he then stayed down, writhing as his nerves slowly gave out.

" _Go, Go, Go!_ Don't stop, _move!_ " Chase bellowed, and the pixie blonde led the charge for the stairway doors, bounding over the bleeding corpse and slamming her way past the wooden door. In front of her, offset from the threshold, were the stairs leading up to the second floor, and to her immediate left was the perpendicular hallway of the south wing, with more classrooms and lockers. The eleven girls barged their way through the door, huddling into the tight corners and along the walls as they awaited their next horrendous encounter with the foe. Above them and more faintly from outside, gunshots rang like tremors, wild and random in their horrid pitch.

" _Jesus, Jesus Christ—_ " Taylor sputtered, trembling, taking the moment to cycle the bolt of her Mauser.

"What the fuck do we do now? Vic?" Courtney shouted, still deafened by the ringing.

"Fuck this! Max, let's kill these bastards!" Price growled, next to her Alyssa and Juliet had the same murderous grimaces adorning their features. Adrenaline coursed through their veins; the terror had faded, and in its place was a burning agitation.

"Chloe, Victoria, Dana, Juliet, follow me—we're going up," Max beckoned them with a wave of her hand as she climbed the steps, "the rest of you, dig in and keep an eye out for anyone coming from the hall!"

Caulfield passed the first flight of stairs before she readied her Mauser, aiming at the railing obscuring her sight of the second story threshold. Footfalls curved around her as Price and the others joined the leading brunette, weapons trained on the doorway as they inched up the second flight. They stacked up, Chloe took her spot on the door's right side and the rest stacked to its left. The gunfire they heard from outside was more prominent on their ears, rising and falling in a tremulous melody.

"Dana, set up in front of the door," Max ordered, and the cheerleader was toying with the bipod as she turned to the others, "I'm gonna open this door when the gunfire swells, and we'll catch them by surprise," Ward now laid prone in front of the door, her mounted R75A aimed and ready.

"T-This is a bad idea, Max," Chase sputtered, then more brashly, "we should be focusing on getting out of here, not fucking with the hornet's nest—"

"Shut your fucking trap," Price hissed, angry, "they'll tear us to pieces just like I said, we should kill them before they kill us!"

"We _should_ be getting the fuck out of here, not tossing the dice with Death—"

"Guys," Max hushed them both, and the two resorted to glaring at each other.

"Ready, Dana?" the gunfire was monotonous, a straggle of _pops_ and _cracks_. Beside the mousy brunette, Juliet set the safety all the way to the left, clutching her rifle in a tight grip, eyes dilated and locked onto the foes beyond the threshold. The volley of fire then grew into a crescendo, and Max tugged the handle and pulled the door open.

As Dana looked down the iron sights of her automatic rifle, she could see the precise second when the eyes of the closest fiend looked in her direction, the rest of his face obscured in a balaclava. Him and a half-dozen of his comrades were all lined up behind a hastily constructed barricade, turned over desks and lopsided chairs reinforced against each other as cover. Their guns faced down into what would be the front of the school, towards the expanse of the quad and the street farther beyond it. Ward hesitated, as those beady eyes of the foe dilated with fright, and his voice carried from behind the black mask with a shrill cry to his fellows to displace and run.

" _Open fire!_ " Chloe screamed into her ears, and the auburnette blinked, then squeezed the trigger.

**_BABABABABANG—_ **

The first burst tore into that closest hound's frame, and like a puppet bereft of its strings he flailed before swiftly crumbling. His comrades were lucky, they heeded the boy's warning and dove for an obscured space just behind their firing line. Yet still, Ward caught another soul with two 30-06' rounds to the side, the sheer force tearing them in half and sending red and pink viscera flying in all directions. Another, far too slow and still trying to run, took a single round to the leg and was torn in two at the knee, diving behind the wall as he fell. Dana emptied the rest of her magazine at the wall those devils fled behind, before her R75 fell silent.

" _I'm out!_ " and the cheerleader hurriedly rolled away from the exposed threshold, cueing Chloe and the others to cover her. The monotonous hammering of the bluenette's AR to the ear-splitting thunder of Juliet and Max's Mausers rung in the small, enclosed space, and Ward felt her hands shake terribly as she racked the bolt handle, then fumbled the mag release and slid the empty mag out of her gun.

Chloe's index finger ached as she sent round after round down the hallway, the barrel beneath the handguard was warming her other hand almost unbearably and cordite now hung thick in the air, choking at her breath. The muzzle of her SR-556 would flash terribly bright for every other trigger pull.

_**BANG-BANG-BANG** -click_

Ice blue eyes widened at the lack of a shot, and Price swiveled back to cover, ejecting her empty mag and fumbling for a fresh one. It was as she drove the new mag into her semi-auto rifle, that a torrent of lead overcame the girls' weakened fire suppression, and they recoiled as far back from the deadly spew as they could manage. The railing in front of the open door, as well as the concrete wall enclosing the stairway behind it was littered with bullet holes, turned into a brutal mosaic of lead and dust. Panic swelled in Chloe's heart as those bullet holes were edging closer and closer to her spot in the corner, and she pressed herself against the wall and swore frantically.

" _Get out of there, Price!_ " came a cry from the opposite side, and Victoria blindly fired her MP5 in the direction of the hailstorm, orienting her aim after the first burst and being supported by Max and Juliet. With the death-torrent suppressed, Chloe then strafed left, firing a few rounds down the hall before bouncing into cover, tripping over some expended shell casings and rolling down the first few stair-steps.

"Get back, _get back—!_ " and the torrent started up again, Max let go of the door and let it take the hailstorm in their place, as the five of them clambered down the steps in a rush. Adrenaline beat to the frantic rhythm of drumming hearts as they settled at the mid-flight landing, Chloe situated in front of the second flight of stairs with Dana and Juliet cowering behind the curve of the railing.

"Oh God, oh fuck, oh God—" squishing the backpack against the railing, Juliet's hand shook as she slotted another stripper clip of rounds into her bolt action rifle, its barrel still smoking.

Her AR aimed permanently at the shredded railing part up top, the tense bluenette observed the cheerleader beside her, clutching her loaded R75A, eyeing the many holes in the upper wall above with mute shock.

"Chloe, you guys, keep an eye on the door, they'll be coming for us," Max called to the three of them, "Victoria and I are going back down—"

" _ENEMY!_ " came a loud cry from down below, and a spur of shouting and gunfire erupted at the ground floor. Caulfield and Chase seized the opportunity to rush down the steps into the fray, skirting to the right as ricochets and splinters sparked across the left side of the stairs.

Alyssa bent around the corner of the right wall, firing her self-loading rifle as fast as she could, as Stella lay kicking at the floor, being carried away from the threshold by Courtney and Brooke, gasping and coughing horribly.

"Keep shooting! Don't let up!" from the left side, scrunched up behind the small brick indent, right behind the opened door, Kate and Taylor fired their Mausers with frantic calamity, the latter spouting curses as her rifle's bolt refused to completely close. Marsh took the denim-clad blonde by the shoulder, pulling Christensen down as an incoming burst tore nasty splinters at where she'd been crouched.

Alyssa's magazine ran empty, and the incoming fire increased dramatically as Anderson pulled herself back into cover, a grimace carved on her face as the lead storm swarmed dangerously close to the wall they crowded behind. With worried eyes she looked back to the coughing ebony brunette and shouted over the gunfire, "How is she?! Stella?!" the stocky girl addressed, and was answered with even more ragged coughs and spasms.

"Check the wound, check the wound—" Courtney, with the help of Brooke, eased the petite girl in their care against the cold furnished steel of the lockers, "Where're you hit, Stell'? Where is it?" Brooke loudly asked, muffled from the percussion of horrible _pops_ and _bangs_. Stella tried to speak, but whatever speech came out as a wheezing rush of air, so the ebony brunette took her right hand and clutched it at the upper part of her Kevlar, upon her chest.

Victoria and Max eyed with mounting trepidation as Stella let them observe the impact of the round, and felt their eyes widen at the sight. It was a miracle: the round, no bigger than a pistol cartridge, had been completely flattened like a pancake, unable to pierce the durable texture of the ceramic plate surrounding their comrade's frame. If she hadn't been adorned with the body armor, the round would have without a doubt torn through and ripped Stella's heart to shreds.

The gunfire trickled then, at first slowly, then with abrupt delay it ceased.

Shouting could be heard from down the hall. Multiple voices carried their tones with muffled clarity. The ringing in their ears was screeching loud in that sudden silence that now fell within Blackwell.

"Kate, Taylor, you okay?" Caulfield called out from opposite the bullet-ridden threshold.

"We're good!" Christensen called back, clambering out of the other blonde's personal space and lying prone, her Mauser pointing down the hallway in anxious hesitation to fire once again, "W—Why'd they stop shooting?"

"Why _have_ they? The fuck's going on?" Alyssa muttered, daring a peek around the corner before ducking back, having no desire to be suddenly shot.

"M-maybe they wanna talk," Courtney reasoned, "maybe they're tired of fighting."

"Aren't we all," coughed Stella, and she pulled herself from Wagner's grip and clutched at the impact upon her bosom, breathing slow and heavy.

" _Whoever you are, lay down your weapons, now!_ " echoed an order from across the hall, it's baritone pitch was loud and brash, and the girls turned their heads at the commanding voice, " _Come out with your hands up!_ "

"Speak of the devil," Brooke grimly muttered, "and he shall come."

" _Nathan_ ," Chase recognized, nervously did the pixie blonde furrow her brow, as her closest friend handed her and the others an ultimatum. Caulfield took the time to crawl on hands and knees to the corner, earning a worried glance from Anderson as the brunette peeked 'round it.

" _If you do not comply in the next five minutes, we WILL hunt you down, and we will show you no mercy; come out with your hands up!_ " the Prescott heir bellowed down the hall, standing menacingly at the hallway's center, a pistol in his hand. He was adorned in a black jacket, and black cargo pants, these with black boots and a pair of black shadows that hung over his eyes, concealing their cold fury. He stood flanked by two of his hounds, both armed with rifles and obscured with ski masks. Their dull green and brown woodland camouflage stood out against the brighter primary colors of the lockers and the off-white walls.

* * *

"Behold the knight,

In solemn black manner.

With a skull on his crest,

And blood on his banner." - Garnier von Susteren


	6. Embrace the Storm

"You cannot make a revolution in white gloves." - Vladimir Lenin

"If the opposition disarms, all is well and good. If it refuses to disarm, we shall disarm it ourselves." - Joseph Stalin

* * *

"What do we do, _what do we do?_ " Courtney shivered, clinging a hand on Victoria's shoulder, terrified of the reality they face. Everyone shared that sentiment, speaking it through how they hunched themselves, faces angled down and with terrible, mad looks in their eyes.

Fear.

"W-we should listen to him," Chase stuttered, then, more clearly, "it might be our only chance, if we want to get out alive."

" _You'll_ get to leave alive, but _us_?" Stella rasped, gesturing to herself, Brooke and Alyssa, "he'll shoot us in the kneecaps and toss us into the pool before he considers letting us go free."

"It doesn't have to be that way," Victoria countered. Assuring herself, the blonde then set her submachine gun against the wall of lockers, adamantly crouching her way to the battered, bullet-torn threshold, "I can just ask him to spare you all—"

"We will not surrender," Alyssa interrupted as the Queen crawled closer, "I'd rather perish fighting, than on my knees at their mercy."

"Oh _fucking_ hell, not you too," the pixie blonde groaned, "look, it doesn't have to be this way. I will talk to him, I _will_ make him see reason. We are not wasting our lives over this."

"Waste our lives?" Brooke muttered, a bit puzzled at the logic.

"He cares for you, Victoria. He doesn't care about the rest of us," Caulfield reasoned, "He might spare you, but he won't think twice of what he'll do to us. There's too many reasons he'd want us dead for us to take that chance."

And Victoria rounded on Max then, seizing at the straps of the brunette's plate carrier and spitting down at her, scornfully, "I _fucking_ _told you_ it was a bad idea to go up, I told you we should've ran, but you just _had_ to listen to that crazy blueberry, didn't you? If you had just listened to _me_ , and bothered to get out of here, we wouldn't be sitting here in this _mess_."

"I can hear you, y'know," came a call from the first flight of the steps, as both Victoria and the accosted Max looked towards the voice, "not only are you a bitch to other people Vicky, you're also a bitch 'cause you'd throw us at Prescott's feet if it meant your ass would be spared," then Price emphasized her frustrations by giving a one finger salute from just over the observable railing.

"What she said!" Juliet's own visible hand pointed in solidarity towards the punk's brash gesture, and beside the two limbs a third, Dana's, swiftly agreed with a thumbs up.

"Victoria's right though, we can get out of this," came a reply from Taylor, "if we back each other up, Nathan will reconsider. He knows he can't single others out when Vic's with them. He won't risk it, she means too much to him," from beside the long haired blonde, Kate spared a disagreeing sidelong glance before turning her attention back to beyond the threshold, ever silent.

"How do you know that's the case, he could have changed his mind by now, what with all we've done," Anderson dared another peek, looking at the lone body that laid between them and the tyrant across the hall, seeing the shiny ichor pooled around it and shivering.

"It's our only chance, if we don't want to get shot to pieces," Courtney had already unloaded her Mauser and set it aside, sounding a clatter as she nervously undid the straps of her helmet, "I want to live, I don't want to die."

" _Verdammter Feigling_ " Stella barbed at the Queen's aide, clutching her own Mauser with the intent to fight, "Go be a coward for someone else, why don'tchya," and likewise, Brooke held her rifle in equal fashion, eyes fixed to the tile floor.

"I've made my mind up on this," Max declared, pointing the notion towards the scowling Queen next to her, "I need you to make up your mind as well, Victoria."

"The hell do you want me to make up my mind for? You're telling me you'd rather go guns blazing against him when I can give us a chance to get out of here alive, _all of us_ —is that not what you wanted?" and an unusual mixture between frustration and pleading adorned Chase's brow as she whispered to her, "I can't just let this go, Max. You wanted me to change, and change I did. Now give me a chance."

Sharp, nervous green eyes met their brazen cobalt blue counterparts, and sparred a silent clash of the wills.

" _This is your final warning!_ " came a rabid shout from down the hall, "We have you surrounded, come out with your hands up, _NOW!_ "

"If it goes south, be prepared to duck into cover," Caulfield relented, giving a small nod. Chase wasted no time standing and mentally preparing herself, chin up, brow straight; have no fear, not here, not now.

Proudly, at the awestruck eyes of the others, did Victoria stand and confront the Prescott heir.

"Vic?!" Nathan blurted, dumbstruck, "The fuck are you doing here?"

" _What am I doing here?_ What the hell are _you_ doing here!? What the fuck is going on, Nate!?"

"This was inevitable, Vic. It was only a matter of time," he shouted back, miffed, "why are you here? I thought you were supposed to be long gone from here."

"I tried to, but your _friends_ weren't as interested in letting me go."

Chase could see Nathan turn to the hound on his right, giving him a terrible, murderous stink eye. The boy nervously shrugged and shirked a couple steps back.

"You shouldn't be here Vic. Stop fighting this, stop fighting us," Prescott ordered to her, "Just drop your weapons and walk with me, that's it."

"Why are you doing this, Nathan?" she countered, she wanted an answer.

He hesitated, and that length of silence extended as he looked at her, pleading. The pistol in his right hand was trembling ever the slightest.

"I'm tired, Vic. All of us are," he gestured with his free hand to the armed guards flanking him, "we're all tired of this world, of its injustice. Day by day we watch as our way of life, the ways of the modern Man are tarnished by greedy tyrants, by politicians who value the dollar over a human life."

"We are tired of being lied to, we are tired of living in the slums and in the streets," the rich kid continued, "We wish for nothing less than a sanctuary, a place to call our home. Already has the elitist utopia up north, Pan Estates, been torched; its bourgeois rats have been driven off, and away from our land. We will not stop until every corrupt, and conspiring official to this system, this _oppressive_ system, has been driven out or into the ground."

Victoria felt her spine crawl.

"The world is slowly going mad, and I don't want any part of it. Neither do I want you to be a part of it," and that free hand of his reached out to her, inviting, "I'm asking of you as a comrade, as your friend. Embrace the storm, and I will keep you safe."

The pixie blonde found her attention transfixed on the corpse that lay still between her and Prescott. Like Alyssa, did Chase's trembling green eyes fix themselves to the black ooze surrounding the body, and whiffs of that rancid, iron tang twisted her guts into knots.

_Embrace the storm._

"Then what about the innocents?" she asked, then more accusingly, "what about the people who resist? The hundreds of people in Arkadia who aren't your enemies? What if they don't want this, what if they don't want _you_?"

She hated the way the hallway lights above them casted those shadows over his eyes, and she hated even more the faint sound of snickering coming from the hounds. Nathan may not have shared their apparent glee, but his voice became emboldened, "They stand in the way of the ideals of the storm, the true destiny of our home. If they cannot respect that destiny, then there's no place for them."

Behind Victoria, she could hear the shuffle of a combat vest, and the _ker—chak_ of a rifle.

"Vic please, just tell whoever's with you to drop their weapons and come out, I don't want this to get bloody," and he extended his hand out again, looking her dead in the eyes. She hadn't noticed though, she'd gone back to staring at the body, to watching the skin sickeningly pale under the blue fluorescents.

"Get ready to duck," came a hiss from behind, and Chase snapped from her trance at Max's warning. The pixie blonde felt panic seize her, and swiveled her head to look back to the huddle.

"Fucking _don't_ , I still have a chance—"

"Vic, _please_ , I'm just trying to make this peaceful," Nathan called, growing impatient, "Just tell them to come out—however many there are."

"I'm trying, just—just give me a second!" and the blonde looked back to Max, begging her with her eyes to not fuck this up. Yet, the brunette did not budge, and defiantly stayed in place.

"Max, just fucking do it, _please_ ," Chase exasperated, growing even more irate, "everyone, please, this is our last chance. Leave your weapons and follow my lead."

Nervous, indecisive looks from Stella and Brooke brought hope to the pixie blonde, and Alyssa was looking anxiously back and forth between the beckoning royal and her friends, looking so pale, so distraught. Already did Courtney and Taylor forego their rifles and edge closer, ready to give themselves up. No movement came from the railing.

Max did not move. Cobalt blue eyes were widening in desperation, from what, Victoria was unsure.

"Victoria, I'm sorry. The others can go, but I just can't—"

"Don't fucking chicken out on me Caulfield, you _promised_ me this," and at the mousy brunette's fervent shake of the head to stay, the Queen grabbed at one of her arms, and pulled her from her crouch next to the door.

" _Wait, don't—!_ "

"Vic, what's going—" and whatever Nathan was going to say was cut short, as the last person he expected to see presented themselves at the threshold, right next to his best friend. From across the way, Victoria was ready to answer him, but paused at the wild, fearful look in Prescott's eyes, wide like saucers. He murmured something harsh to his guards, and suddenly they raised their rifles, the fear in her best friend's eyes was swiftly replaced with an all-consuming rage, and he barked to them, raising his pistol, "Hands up— _HANDS UP, NOW!_ "

"Nathan, wait—!"

" _COVER!_ " Max cried, curling her arms around Victoria's waist and throwing both of them out of the doorway, just in time to miss the salvo of lead tearing at where they stood moments ago.

Taylor and Courtney recoiled, ducking to the floor on their respective sides and clutching at their heads, hands over ears as the sharp cracks of gunfire erupted once more, ringing loud and oppressive. Next to the denim blonde on the floor, Kate took advantage of the lack of incoming fire on the left side of the threshold, poking her rifle out and scoring a lucky hit on the guard to the left of Prescott, clipping them in the lower abdomen and sending them, doubled-over, to the floor.

Alyssa clumsily reciprocated the revolutionaries' volley, daring to blindly fire around the besieged corner and sending Prescott and his other lackey running for cover, a stalemate erupted as both sides exchanged a furious torrent at each other.

" _What the fuck, what the fuck—!_ " Chase had freed herself from Max's loose grip, and now crawled on her back in a frantic search for safety, lunging for her MP5 and clinging to it for dear life. Max wasn't faring much better, having slid into the nook of space behind Stella and Brooke as they crouched forwards, inching their way just behind Anderson to help with suppressing the tyrant and his thralls. Farther beyond, Christensen brought herself together and held her rifle at the ready, providing cover as Kate quickly searched her bandolier for another clip of rounds.

"Stella! Spare mags, quick!" and the ebony brunette fished for a spare magazine from her vest and handed it to Alyssa, who had now burned through her own supply.

"Not enough ammo—we gotta get out of here," Max muttered to herself, glancing back down the empty hall of the school's south wing and hatching an idea. The brunette rolled, clutching at a still hysterical Chase with a hand on the shoulder, and hoping Victoria was still conscious through the fear, "Victoria, I need your help, we gotta get to the end of the hall!"

Wide, dilated green eyes locked to Max's own, and she repeated, "Vic, listen to me—take Courtney, and make for the room at the end of the hall, we're gonna leg it out of here!"

" _Chloe, Dana, Juliet, get ready to move!_ " came Caulfield's cry over the gunfire, and the three huddled at the landing clamored to life at the promise of action. Price tensed, never straying her AR from the second floor's shredded railing as the sound of voices could be heard from above. Watson and Ward also hunched themselves, the auburnette using the more intact section of drywall to mount her R75A, waiting for something, anything.

For a brief second, it seemed that they would be able to book it down the stairs and reach their comrades on the first floor below.

**_PAKPAKPAK—_ **

Hot lead burst through the obstructing debris, impacting the wall just above the girls and sending shards of concrete flying. Immediately did Chloe counter with a spamming of the trigger, firing blindly at the shredded railing. Whoever had opened up on the three then ceased, and a baritone voice called for backup, sounding close, too close. From behind the shredded drywall, they could discern movement through the many holes riddled in the plaster.

" _Hit that sonuvabitch!_ " Price barked, Dana obliged and fired a burst from her automatic rifle, the thirty-aught six rounds eviscerating the bullet-ridden concealment and hitting their mark, the poor soul shrieking before being abruptly silenced. Spurred by adrenaline, Ward dumped the rest of her magazine at the spot, then made to stand, angling her head down to search for a new mag.

"I'm out, cover—"

_**PA** —DING_

A stray bullet careened through the torn upper railing, striking the auburnette's steel helmet. The cheerleader's head jerked back, and she collapsed just before the descending steps, her weapon clattering down the flight and out of reach.

" _Dana!_ " Juliet lunged for her unconscious best friend, pulling her back into cover as Chloe tore at the hounds above with suppressive fire, the bronze-brunette shakily felt for the impact and begged to not see blood. The gash in the steel frame was prominent under the sheen of the stahlhelm, yet the panic in Watson's heart subsided the slightest; the round had glanced off the hard angle, unable to penetrate.

"We gotta move, _move!_ " the bluenette watched uneasily as Juliet tried to carry the dead weight in her arms, Watson was going far too slow to make it out. Already could Chloe hear the vicious growls from above, the hounds were preparing to rush them. Price had to take the gamble, while she still could.

"I got her, I got her, just _cover me!_ " and Chloe roughly took the unconscious girl from Juliet, who hastily clutched her Mauser and aimed, awaiting, shaking from fear. Price was lugging Dana down the steps when the first of the hounds showed themselves, and he charged for the stairs, screaming bloody murder. Juliet met him with a round to the chest, and he tumbled down the flight in a twisted heap, lifeless.

" _Get those cunts, now!_ "

It was as Watson cycled the bolt forward with a new cartridge that a second one came at her, peeking over the railing with a rifle of his own and shouting, " _Fucking bitch—!_ "

They both fired, and even with the muffs in her ears, the reporter flinched at the harsh whizzing of the round, missing her head by a hand's length and burying itself into the wall behind. Her own shot had struck him, and all that could be heard was a pitiful wailing as he fell out of sight, wounded.

Driven by instincts and a burning rage, Watson cycled a third time and fired, missing the unseen, lamenting foe. Irritated by the hound's cries for help, she cycled the fourth round, firing again and taking sadistic glee as his howling could be heard, she'd struck him again.

" _AW fuck_ it hurts, I'm gonna die, _I'm gonna die oh jesus—!_ "

"Drake! Drake, keep crawling!"

_Chew on lead, you fucking rat!_

The spent casing bounced off the tile as she cycled the bolt a fifth and final time. The sounds of chaos down on the first floor seemed lost on Watson, too focused on the familiar hound—Drake—and his incoherent babbling to one of his comrades. The senses were heightened, every brief wisp of floating dust and bright muzzle flash made her eyes twitch, her heart drummed loudly in her deafened ears.

A large, ominous shadow rose from the top of the upper flight of stairs, and Juliet swiveled, clenching the trigger as her rifle crossed the figure's path.

**_KRAK_ **

The force knocked them against the wall behind, but they still pressed on, coming down the steps towards her. Juliet's eyes widened at the large gash in their AR, her shot had torn through the metal at an angle but stopped short of its death blow. A war cry erupted from the lad as he rushed her, heaving the useless gun at her before slamming into her like a bull. The momentum drove them into the wall, squishing the backpack Watson wore as her head thudded against the concrete.

Using his grip around the disoriented girl's waist, he hoisted, then threw her to the floor, rabidly screeching as he did so. Already had Juliet lost her rifle, and now as the boy's iron grip wormed around her neck and squeezed the life from her, did she claw at his arms and face in a panic. Fight or flight ruled her conscious, and she jabbed at his eyes, desperate for an escape. One hand of his came off her throat only to come back swinging hard into her cheekbone, sending her vision askew and blurry. Hot tears burned her eyes as she saw him raise his fist again, roaring down at her like an animal, spitting and swearing, " _I'LL KILL YOU, FUCKING WHORE—!_ "

**_KRAK_ **

The boy's head spun, snapping and exploding as a bullet traveled through his cranium, tearing apart the skull and brain and sending the contents in all directions. Juliet gasped as the grip slackened off her windpipe, then screamed as the rest of the body fell on top of her. She pushed it away and scurried against the wall, coughing.

A hand grabbed at her right arm, and Watson looked to Max, a smoking Mauser in her other hand and begging, shouting over the din, "Come on, we gotta get out of here!"

Watson was pulled up and down the steps, against the hallway as Kate and Taylor dove across the threshold, being supported by Alyssa as the stocky girl let loose with her Mini-14. A sort of unseen, intangible force spurred the girls onwards as they all collectively dashed down the south wing, towards the room at the end of the hall. Victoria stood at the open threshold, and madly beckoned to them with a wave of the arm.

"Alyssa, displace, displace!" Juliet looked back to see Brooke, then Stella, then Anderson stand and dash for the exit, with Max's incessant tugging nearly driving the bronze-brunette off her feet as they quickly sped for the door.

* * *

A/N - " _Verdammter Feigling_ ," _German_ , "[You] damn coward"

When I had first conceived Nathan's character as the "antagonist," I had considered the possibility of going about this scenario in a more peaceful light, in which Nathan's sympathies to Victoria would make him seem more true to his word. Yet this would serve to go against all that I have built in Part One and up until this point in Part Two (harken to Markson's comments, once he had captured Juliet's group in Chapter One). I have already established Nathan to be significantly different from what he is canonically, so I cannot revert him to something that is more expected. So, we have what we see here.

Nathan is the antithesis of the protagonists. Him, and by extension all that are loyal/close to him, in some way or another are set against the protagonists and their goals. This means, by Nathan's case, he stands for the extreme, the dangerous, for that which one may consider atrocious. He is not bound by any specific ideology, nor by any creed, unlike what our protagonists abide by (either by Faith, or Family, or Friends). His only oath is that of destruction, a destruction of the old world, of the old values, of anything that the protagonists love and care for.

Naturally, he did not wake up one day and choose to become the way he's portrayed. I do intend to create a backstory for Nathan, one that will show his change into the character we see now (understand that this project is separate from what I'm currently working on, and it will be a long time before I can attempt it). As it stands, Nathan is a hypocrite, he is manipulative, he dares to use force and intimidation to suppress his opponents, he is prone to anger and keen for brutality; he finds his place amongst devils of all kinds, like Frank, and Mr. Wells, and Jefferson. He is full of the vices that everyone should do their best to avoid. And it is true that violence may become necessary in times of duress, but violence for the sake of violence itself, is a terrible and despicable thing.


	7. Hell of Heaven

"The mind is its own place, and in itself can make a heaven of hell; a hell of heaven." - John Milton, _Paradise Lost_

* * *

Max and Juliet tumbled through the door, the latter tumbling in to a sideways roll as inertia kicked in, as already the rest of the eleven girls were stampeding their way inside. Victoria slammed the door closed as the last of them rushed in, sidestepping to help Courtney overturn the large storage cabinet next to it. The metal slammed to the ground, screeching against the floor as they and a few others pushed it against the door, and those who weren't attending to the cabinet were taking the desks, the chairs, anything they could carry and stacking it against that lone entrance.

" _Shit_ —Hey, anyone got a bandage? Anyone at all?" on a spare desk farthest from the clatter, Chloe had laid an unconscious Dana atop its surface, checking the auburnette for injuries and shouting for aid.

"I can help!" Taylor rushed over from the commotion, "Where is it? Where's the wound?"

Price directed Christensen to Dana's head, noting the terrible gash in the steel helmet and very carefully lifting it off. Both of them winced at the red patch on the cheerleader's scalp, and Taylor made for some pouch off to her side, "The metal might've fragmented, we gotta get those bits out before they make the infection worse."

"You, it was fucking _you!_ " and both the girls looked to a developing scuffle, as Victoria angrily latched onto Max, pulling the startled brunette and shaking her like a toy doll, "I had it, I had it right in the palm of my hand and you made him fucking snap, _why?!_ "

Guilt was rife for Caulfield, as she didn't bother to pry herself from Chase's grip, and instead stared back at the raging pixie blonde, unwilling to speak.

"He was willing to do it, I could tell. I had him in the palm of my fucking hand, Max," so the other girls grimly watched as the royal jabbed a pointed finger into the plate carrier the brunette wore, "But he saw you, and he snapped, almost fucking _killed_ us on the spot. He wouldn't have done that unless you pissed him off somehow. What the _fuck_ did you do, Caulfield!?"

"He's always hated me, Victoria," Max blurted back quickly, "it wasn't just you who gave me shit all the time. He just—he just didn't think I was worth the effort 'till now."

Juliet had silently shuffled her way to Dana and the two tending to her wounds, observing the scene with trepidation. A feeling of respect sweltered in her heart, as the berated brunette before them was more alike than initially thought. Turning to Taylor and Chloe, Watson could see the fire of friendship burn in the punk's icy blue glare, all that held her back from beating Victoria to a pulp was Christensen's need for a helper.

" _Bullshit!_ This is more than what happened before then, and you know it," and those jagged emerald daggers tore into Max's nerve-wracked conscious, and sank their blades deep with every word, "You tried fucking with him, because of what he did to Kate, didn't you? Because you stuck your nose somewhere it shouldn't have been, and now he _knows_ —"

A small, firmly grasping hand clutched onto Victoria's left shoulder, and the Queen was spun and shoved away, then backing up even further at the terribly cold stare that Marsh now sent her, "Back off, Victoria."

For her part, Chase held her tongue, but now there hung the atmosphere of blame, and no one but the accused, mousy brunette to answer for it. Everyone was looking to her for an answer, and Max felt herself suddenly shiver, fidgeting. She had no answer for them.

"How many teachers were in the cafeteria?" Kate suddenly asked. Then, noticing the confusion marring the girls' faces, she asked again, "How many were there?"

"Th-there was Ms. Grant, the science teacher," Courtney spoke up, "I saw her next to the drama teacher, Mr. Keaton."

"And the P.E. teacher Mr. Edwards, and the art teacher, and Boomer Bowman—they were holding that kid down when we left," Stella added.

"What's the point of this, Marsh?" Chase asked, dubious.

"There was supposed to be someone else, but he never showed. Jefferson wasn't here today."

Max and Chloe then looked to their dear friend, who had a frown and a far-away look in those dim hazel eyes of hers, and they silently extended their sorrows, for that terror came back now, after being swept from their minds.

"Jefferson and Nathan took us—Max, Chloe and I—he kidnapped us, dragged us into this place, a bunker under a desolate barn. The Dark Room," the other girls listened with perplexed fright, as the ragged blonde muttered still, "he tortured Max, and Chloe. He was the one who cut my hair. He was the one behind Rachel's death."

Gasps arose. Eyes widened at the revelation.

"How the fuck—but wait, _wait_ ," Victoria stumbled out, "you're talking about the photography teacher, Mr. Jefferson? The famous photographer? The man who is an inspiration to hundreds, if not _thousands_?"

"He is not a man. He is a _monster_ ," Kate growled, "And so is Prescott and his devils."

"How did you get away from Jefferson then? How did you guys escape?" asked the unnerved crowd.

Max then shuffled closer to Marsh, speaking softly, worriedly, "Kate, you don't have to—"

" _I killed him._ "

Silence screeched in the room, and they couldn't even hear the sounds from beyond the walls. None of the other girls expected this, and their flinch at the sharpness of Kate's answer was plain and obvious. Her words bore no guilt, no remorse. Now the tense shoulders and hollow stare made sense to them, now came the stark realization that they were not looking upon their timid, warm, God-fearing friend any longer. There now existed someone else, someone colder, more silent and more estranged than they imagined.

"We came back to Blackwell, after that," Marsh resumed, and turned her unseeing gaze to the floor, "now we're here. Nathan wants us dead because we know the truth."

The shouting from the hall could be heard. The hounds were getting closer.

"But we want him dead because of what he did, what kind of person he is," the grip on Kate's Mauser tightened, until white knuckles were showing, "He is a devil. A horrid, murderous, treacherous _devil_. The Lord may dare to forgive him, but he will not be spared from Man's justice, from _our_ justice."

That cold hazel gaze then locked to its nervous emerald counterpart, and glared in contempt, those months of bitter, burning hatred bubbling and boiling to the surface, "He has hurt my friends, he has taken my dignity, he has taken everything I care for. For that, _I will kill him_."

" _Check the rooms!_ " came a muffled, yet murderous cry from beyond the walls, " _Find them, now!_ "

"We gotta move, they're coming," Caulfield then turned to Christensen, who had been mostly occupied in removing the fragments of metal from Ward's head, "Some of you help carry Dana, the rest move to assist them. We'll go through the window, and run for the gate near the corridor."

A bit dumbfounded, the girls jumped to action as gunshots came from down the hall, echoing closer as the hounds searched the classrooms. They picked the largest window off to the corner of the room, farthest from the blocked door; its large glass pane, just big enough for one to comfortably vault over, was quickly shattered as they took the butts of their rifles to it.

"Come on, through here!" and swiping the glass shards aside, Max and Victoria led the way, vaulting over the ledge and onto the grassy field outside, turning back to receive the others. Juliet's quartet had gathered around their unconscious fifth, and together they carried her over to the window and into the waiting arms of the two leaders. Keeping the slumped cheerleader aloft, the quartet vaulted themselves outside, and eventually pulled the auburnette through the window.

Shots suddenly snapped through the barricaded door, splintering wood and ringing off the metal cabinets. Screeching could be heard then, as an unseen force barged against the blockade, pushing at the defenses with every bash of the door.

With a fearful cry, Chase's aides tossed themselves through the hole, tripping over themselves as they tumbled and ran for the others. Kate and Chloe exited immediately after, with the blonde rushing for the moving company and the bluenette taking her time, firing a burst at the hounds trying to break into the room, then dashing away.

As Price caught up to the group, already were half of them piling through the rarely used East Gate, which connected the campus to the hiking trails up along the mountain. Yet instead of following these gravel trails, they swung right, running parallel to the outer brick wall and moving south.

They stopped just short of the corridor, and from where she stood, Chloe could see Max converse pointedly with the royal blonde beside her, then Victoria beckoned her two minions at her side. The trio blitzed ahead of the pack and all the way to the school's south perimeter, with the rest waiting for a signal to move up.

It was now that the punk became aware of the discomforting lack of noise. No shots had been fired since she let those bastards have it at the window, and what ringing in her ears was now drowned by the sound of the birds in the trees. The sweet smell of the pines and of the earth beneath them made the expression on Chloe's face go sour—the world had been uncaring of their plight.

With a swing of the arm and a crisp, " _Let's go!_ " Caulfield ordered them past the corridor, and Juliet's party heaved their slumped comrade up and toward their escape, with the Christian and the punk following at their heels. The crunch of dried leaves was loud as they pressed on, reaching Victoria's scouting troop at the corner and stopping once again. From Ward's carriers came a tumble, as Juliet's foot struck an uprooted branch, sending the reporter to the ground in a heap.

"Shit, you alright holmes?" then Stella reached out for the reeling reporter, shaking off the twigs from her side as Watson stood quickly, "It's alright, I'm fine, I'm fine."

Alyssa, now the only one carrying Dana's upper body, visibly strained herself as she held the weight up, sputtering through clenched teeth, "Help, _please help_ , she's fucking heavy."

Cackles erupted as Juliet and Stella rejoined poor Anderson, "Man, if Dana heard you say that, she'd have your ass on one of those wall mounts like a trophy."

The thought of it made the others chuckle, but they were silenced by a hush from Max.

"You guys follow the edge of the trees, look for a place to hide," then a look to Victoria, who held her MP5 at the ready, who nodded the slightest.

"Alright, go!"

"Up and at 'em, girls," Juliet led her posse to the trees, trudging through the foliage as Victoria and her two aides covered their escape. From her spot just behind Chase's trio, Max watched with anxious fervor as the clambering cluster of girls skirted the pines, slipping through a gap in the many branches and ducking low, out of sight.

"Vic, get your people ready," Chloe and Kate then assumed positions to support their flight, and Max herself readied her Mauser and aimed down the length of the brick wall, praying for no one to turn the corner.

"Set," the pixie blonde muttered.

"Go for it!"

Courtney and Taylor bounded with frantic strides to the trees, followed by a more cautious, more worried Victoria. The Queen strafed her way across the open, keeping her submachine gun pointed at the other end of that wall, then swiveled on her boot's heels and dove into the trees with her friends.

"Your turn, Maximus," Chloe urged, "we'll cover you, get moving."

"You be right behind me, Chlo," Max vehemently replied, and made a dash for the low ground behind those trees, going into a semi-crouch and shuffling quickly.

" _Flashbang, out!_ "

Caulfield jerked her head to the sudden, baritone cry, and watched as a small cylindrical object soared in the air, arching over the perimeter wall and bouncing once on the ground. Instantly, Max was surprised as the tactical grenade cooked off, flashing terribly bright and echoing a thunderous **_BANG_** in her eardrums, the muffs she wore did little to stifle the power of that shrill sound. Blind and deaf, the brunette dropped to the ground, clutching her bolt action rifle close as the sounds of battle slowly overcame the horrible ringing.

Grass and dirt whipped up in small plumes as bullets carved themselves into the earth, and the violent whizzing noise of stray rounds over her head sent Max into a panic, clinging to the dirt and whimpering, begging for her life. Her eyes re-adjusted from the flash, and she dared to crawl on her stomach, hastily reaching the tree line and rolling into cover. Overhead, the splinters shot off the bark of the pines, and these splinters were whipping in the air around her and scratching her exposed skin.

Trembling, but now in cover, Caulfield supported herself with her rifle and rose to a crouch, clumsily making her way to the group of eight farther along the slope, the mess of huddled forms laying low, shouting over the hectic gunfire.

"I can't fucking see them, where are they?!" A burst of fire snapped at a pine tree next to an irate Alyssa, who swore, then let loose a salvo of her own. Closer to Max, Chase poked just over the berm, firing a burst from her MP5, "By the wall, aim for the corner of the wall!"

Taking a moment to herself, Max witnessed the sheer volume of fire bearing down on them, a swarm of hot wooden splinters showered above their heads, twigs and branches jerked as the incoming rounds buzzed like hornets, swift and deadly. Beside Chase, Taylor was speaking something into Courtney's ear, who writhed where she lay, clutching at her head and crying hysterically. Farther behind them, Juliet's group were faring no better; the bolt action, five-shot rifles they had were near useless to counter the constant suppressive fire, and they shrunk on themselves, for fear they be struck by the abrasive hot lead.

They were pinned down.

Max looked over her shoulder, back to where Chloe and Kate still remained, and felt dread swell in her chest. She dared to crawl up the slope, just enough to see the muzzle flashes of Chloe's AR and Kate's Mauser before incoming fire made the brunette duck again, a grimace on her face as she wracked her head for a possible way out. The low ground they resided in was the only depression in the earth that they had, as far as she could discern the area surrounding them only offered the pine trees for cover. While their trunks were strong and hardy, Max worried of being stuck behind the wrong tree, and being shredded when the bullets would snap through the bark and wood. It was too risky, they had to find some way else, a way that would work—

" _Stop, please STOP SHOOTING_ _—_ _!_ " came a broken shriek from Wagner, having lost her wits even with Christensen by her side, " _I can't fucking take it anymore, stop shooting at us, stop shooting at us—!_ "

Rifle clutched in her right hand, Caulfield crouch-crawled past the broken soul, and made her way closer to Juliet's group. Said bronze-brunette was hovering close to the unconscious Ward, clinging tightly to one of Dana's unreciprocating hands, eyes wide with terror and flinching at every snap of the twigs. Brooke and Stella were prone, laid next to Anderson, who was spitting her fury at their attackers with livid passion. It was short lived, as her Mini-14's magazine ran empty moments after, and the stocky girl desperately rolled down what little bit of the slope, screaming at the top of her lungs, " _GRENADE, GET DOWN—!_ "

**_THUM_ **

The ground rumbled, and an explosion burst from above where they lay, a geyser of smoke and charred flecks of dirt showered them. They spasmed as the burning bits nicked their skin, seeping into shirt sleeves and shoes. With clenched teeth and narrow eyes, Max coughed out the smoke from her lungs and crawled on her stomach, situating herself just below the berm's crest.

The gunfire trickled, and died out after a minute's worth.

Slowly, the girls shook the dirt out of their hair, and rose from their prone positions, though never enough to expose themselves. And they shook, nerves spazzed and twitched, hands trembled and curled into fists. Whimpers sounded as Courtney still sobbed, even after the violence ceased.

"W-what now?" Taylor muttered, eyes darting from Victoria to the horizon above, "'Tori—?"

"I—I don't know, Tay'."

" _I know you're there, Vic!_ " came Prescott's cry from beyond the trees, from somewhere they couldn't see, " _Give me what I want, and you and your friends will be free! I swear on it with my life!_ "

"Not this shit again," Max heard Brook say, and the brunette turned and noted the weary look in the Filipina's gaze, devoid of energy. The adrenaline was wearing out, and everyone was at their wit's end. Stella and Alyssa had equally sunken faces, heads hung low and defeated.

Max looked to Victoria, who had taken it upon herself to answer, shouting, "I don't want any more games, Nate! I want this to be over, I want us to walk free!"

" _You will, just give me what I want_ ," then came a pause, as he was waiting for her to answer.

Caulfield could see the gears turning in Chase's head, weighing the options, the pros and cons. Not like they had much of a choice.

"What is it then—what do you want, Nathan?"

" _You hand over Caulfield, and I let you all go,_ " he demanded, " _I don't care how many you have, I just want Caulfield._ "

Silence. Dread had gripped the mousy brunette's heart and was tugging.

"Vic?" Taylor hesitated, "are we really gonna…?"

Movement then came behind the denim blonde, and Wagner leveled her rifle at Max, wide eyed and deranged, "At your word, Vic! Just say it and I'll make her do it!"

"Courtney, no, wait—!"

Some rustling came from a tangle of branches behind Wagner, then Chloe and Kate slinked into the open and collapsed into the depression, Price had her AR drawn and leveled at Chase's wide-eyed aide.

"Don't fucking do that, _put it down_ ," the bluenette barked, and next to her, Kate angled her Mauser at the trembling, black haired royal.

"Fuck you, Price, _I want to live_ ," Courtney bit back, now aiming at the threatening punk, "You're not fucking stopping me, _none of you are!_ "

Alyssa looked on in mute terror, as Stella and Brook also raised their rifles at the senseless Wagner. Taylor was torn between her best friend and the idea of offering Max into Nathan's hand, and Victoria was still silent, still brooding.

Max felt the guilt swell, and bubble over.

"You think Nathan'll spare us? We all know he's fucking lying through his teeth," Chloe spat, "He nearly killed Dana, and now, he wants Max—but I'm not gonna let that happen, don't make me fucking shoot you, _fucking snake!_ "

"I don't fucking care what I am anymore," Courtney snapped, "I just want to live, I want to go home. I just want to see my family, and I'll do _whatever it takes_. You'd do the same if it wasn't you he wanted," the Mauser hovered between Chloe and Kate, and they could see Wagner's finger resting just before the trigger.

"Stop!" Max placed herself between them, arms reaching out and pleading, "please stop! I'll do it. Just stop it—"

"You ain't doing shit," Price growled, staring down Courtney, "Ey, Vicky, you mind putting a leash on your pet here?!"

"Court," the Queen tersely commanded, and after a moment's hesitation, Wagner then lowered her rifle, ashamed, and humiliated. The others lowered their weapons in turn. A coldness settled before them.

"If you want to do this, Max," Victoria reluctantly inquired, "then it's your choice. You know where I stand."

Eyes turned to Caulfield, who sat there on shaking knees, hunched and worn down, yet determined. A hope shined in those blue eyes of hers, shining in the shade of the pines, "You make sure everyone gets out of here alive, Victoria. That's all I want. Get to the police station, the fire department, somewhere you can hide at, and bide your time."

Chloe and Kate shuffled to their best friend's side, and surprised Max then. They huddled close with their rifles, and Chloe looped an arm around the brunette's shoulders, then with a solemn smile she spoke.

"Don't think we'd let you go out there alone, Max. The pirate crew follows their captain, even to the bitter end," Chloe muttered to her, and Max felt the terrible tugging in her heart ebb away. To the bitter end, indeed.

With that, the three signaled to Chase that they were ready.

"Nathan!" she then called out, "I'm coming out, don't shoot!"

"Wait, Vic?!" the royal's aides cried out, and before they could reach for her, Victoria rose from the slope, and stepped out, past the shrubbery and into the unknown. Immediately did Max and her companions also rise, and follow the pixie blonde to their last stand.

"Get ready to cover them!" Max heard Juliet call from behind, as they trekked past the low-hanging branches, stepping out into the open field of grass that separated the forest and the street. Ahead, they could see Victoria, who marched boldly to Prescott and the several hounds at his flanks, armed and ready to kill at a moment's notice. Some flickering movement caught her attention on her right, and Max beheld the terrible sight of smoke and small flames, of burning police cars and the splayed bodies of policemen. The poor souls had to have been opened up on by Prescott's men at some point during the firefight.

_God help us._

"Before we do this, I want their weapons on the ground, no more bullshit," Nathan ordered, waving his pistol in an arrogant gesture. His lackeys held their guns by the shoulder and at the ready, pointed towards the girls.

"Tell me what the fuck happened in the hallway, and they're yours," Chase pressed, and the Prescott heir scrunched his brow, annoyed.

"Vic, what the hell are you—"

"You don't get to play games with me, Nate," she venomously argued, "after you nearly _shot_ me to pieces trying to help you, I figured I'd be kind enough to only ask for one thing in return."

The frustration boiled inside the leader of the pack, and with a snarl he spat, low and deadly, "You forget you're not in a position to ask for _anything_. Hand them over, Vic, _now_."

"Why don't you tell that to the 'others' still waiting for my signal over there," and Chase jerked a thumb over to the trees, "One wrong move is all it takes. I just want this one thing Nathan, don't be a hardass and get everyone killed over it."

Max observed the frown on Nathan's face tense, then ease up very slowly as the silence ticked by. Then, with a sigh, he gruffed out, "What?"

"I want you to promise me that everyone else over by the trees leaves this place alive. That's it. I want your word on this, Nathan."

Pride-struck, the heir looked at her, a forlorn feeling in his eyes. It dawned on Max that even despite his appetite for destruction, for murder and savagery, the beast still had his heart for someone. That this love and care held his tongue, even when a lie could've come to him easily. It was the perfect distraction.

One of the boys ripped off his ski mask, and, along with two others, turned on Prescott's gang with their assault rifles, the sudden movement startling the lot of them, "Drop 'em, drop your weapons!"

Prescott turned his head to see a gun pointed in his face, and did nothing but frown. The boy behind the gun, a tall, black haired lad, then spat to the prince, "I'm done with this shit, man. You think I want any part with what you've done, all the people you've killed?!"

"Put it down, Andrew. I'm having a discussion here," the heir deadpanned, as if expecting this.

"Fuck this, and _fuck you_ ," Andrew replied, his two comrades and the rest of Prescott's loyalists were muzzle to muzzle with each other, "You talked of revolution, not murder. I thought you had good intent, that this was a good cause, but I should've known. None of this is right!"

Nathan instead looked to Andrew's accomplices, and only then did his frown show.

"You too, Zach, Logan?" he asked of his betraying brothers, who did not respond, keeping their weapons trained on Prescott and his loyalists.

Victoria and the girls witnessed the scene with absolute bewilderment, as one of the loyalists not at immediate gunpoint pulls his own balaclava off, revealing himself to be Carl. The right-hand man was furious with his gaze, and took his time smoothly drawing his sidearm, a small Makarov pistol, and aiming at the traitor, "You know better than to threaten the hand that feeds you, Berry. Put it down, you damn jock, or else," he spat.

Then came a slight noise then, growing louder, and louder. Heads turned to the road, as a single police cruiser drove up the street and into view, the occupants rushing out of their seats and drawing their weapons. It was Madsen, along with a couple of other officers who had not been involved with the first responders.

"Hands where I can see them!" the head of security bellowed, pointing his service revolver at Prescott and the cluster of boys surrounding him.

"What the _fuck_ is going on?" Chloe murmured to Max's left, completely blindsided by the sudden chorus of shouting. Max concurred with a disbelieving shake of the head. Already were Andrew's trio moving to separate themselves from the rest of the revolutionaries, as David's group stopped at a distance, untrusting of the infighting, and Nathan could be seen staring at his surrounding enemies, watching some of his more loyal ilk now throw their guns down in an attempt to save themselves.

Then, he smiled.

"Oh, what a wonderful day."

Carl looked wide-eyed to the prince, and then, resoundingly, he cried out over Madsen's demands for them to surrender, " _Long live the Storm!_ "

With his Makarov raised, he attempted a shot at Andrew, and was shut down by David with two rounds to his center mass. Markson crumbled, falling onto his back and rolling face down in the dirt. Zach and his boys proceeded to back farther away at the gunshots, themselves tossing their guns at the order of the officers.

Nathan raised his pistol, aiming for Madsen. The security guard made the grave mistake of hesitating, and for a single second, stared into the face of Death.

**_KRAK_ **

Nathan's GB-17 pistol clattered to the ground, himself following thereafter as he clutched his chest, falling onto his back as the bullet tore through him. Cold, bitter air swept into the bleeding hole in his crimson-black heart, and with his last second of consciousness, he stared, truly terrified, at Judgement, who looked down at him with her cold hazel gaze, and a smoking Mauser.

* * *

A/N - Andrew Berry, otherwise known as "Andy" Berry, is a member of the Blackwell _Internationale_ , and the only son of police officer Anderson Berry. For the sake of not confusing his canonical name (Andy Berry) with his father's name (Anderson Berry), I made the change of his name to Andrew. He is referenced in a photograph that can be found in the Two Whales Diner, featuring him as the winner in a fishing contest.

Carl Markson, an original character made by me, the writer, is not based off of anything or anyone, and served his purpose as described, a right-hand man to Nathan's plans. He holds minimal importance.

I wish to ask you all for feedback on the pacing of these chapters. I can only assume the pacing was optimal given the circumstances, but if you have anything you want to bring my attention to, please leave a comment/review and let me know.

If you have any critiques, or compliments, go ahead and leave a comment/review. Again, I wish you all a Merry Christmas, and a Happy New Year. -MB

**Author's Note:**

> Any form of feedback, critiques or compliments welcome.


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